


Dragon Age: Kingmaker

by shuubunni



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alistair Focused, Dalish Elves, Dead Cousland, Drama, F/M, King Alistair (Dragon Age), King Alistair Endgame, Political Intrigue, Rebel Prince Alistair, Romance, Solo Alistair, Somniari, dreamer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25999828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuubunni/pseuds/shuubunni
Summary: Alistair has had a very rough day.Cousland dies during the Joining, and has left him the only Warden left in Ferelden during the Blight. Now the heir to the empty throne as well, he is marked a Rebel Prince by Teryn Loghain and must gain forces in order to secure the throne before civil war breaks out. With a mysterious Dalish elf who speaks to him in his dreams, he must do all he can to save Thedas from the Archdemon, Ferelden from falling apart, and his own sanity from crumbling.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 5





	1. Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter doesn't have a whole lot of interaction; most of it is in Alistair's head. There's a lot more in further chapters. 
> 
> The entire work is very much Alistair's story, and will be from his POV the entire time. There will be a "Warden" character later on of course, but she isn't as important as he is. A fair warning to Alibear lovers: I Am Very Mean To Him. Sorry!

_ The Queen Has Fallen.  _

Cousland choked on the coagulated blood that slid down her throat. Almost immediately her veins started to turn black, snaking their way down from her lips to her throat. Every beat of her decaying heart spread the corruption further throughout her dying body, bleaching it whiter than death. Every breath came out a ragged choke, every exhale expunged red and black phlegm from her lungs onto the stone floor below. Soon her legs could no longer stand, wobbling before finally giving out. Even her arms could not hold her up. 

In an agonizing handful of seconds, she was dead.

And so where the other recruits. 

“...All of them…” Alistair whispered, pressing a hand to his mouth, completely aghast. He had only seen one death at his own Joining, but now he had witnessed three. Two by the Blight, one by Duncan’s own hand when he tried to run. They only had three recruits...now all of them lay dead at his feet. 

Duncan shook his head solemnly. “I had hoped she would have survived, but…” He sighed, his voice heavy and weary as his heart surely was. “It is the Maker’s will.” Looking up, he met Alistair’s forlorn gaze. “We must press on, Alistair. Though we lost three now, we may lose more tonight. The battle has yet to be fought.” 

Alistair nodded, “R-right.” He agreed, though his stomach didn’t want to. It was tied up in knots, unable to accept that none of them had made it. Daveth, Jory, Cousland...all promising. They worked well together on the field, too. Cousland, particularly, was a force to be reckoned with. But the Maker hadn’t willed it. 

Not this time.

Duncan departed for a meeting with the King. Alistair watched him walk off to speak with his brother. Oh he knew. Everyone in court knew who he was.  _ Cousland _ , the second daughter of Teryn Cousland, knew who he was. He tried to hide himself in the Wardens; but even Duncan tried to keep him protected. He was a commodity too rare to put into any  _ real _ danger. The only  _ real _ heir there was. Cailan knew it, Duncan knew it. Cailan knew he was here, too. No doubt Alistair would be put someplace besides the main battle. It left him sour. He was a Grey Warden! He should be fighting alongside his brothers in arms, not some namby pamby job, holding some torch someplace just because he was the bastard brother of a King with no children and no presumed heirs but him. 

But people liked to talk. And he hated it when they did. 

With a gruff snort he headed back to the fire. As much as he  _ should _ be involved with these war talks and politics as the king’s brother, he wasn’t. He was dangerous. Or so the politicians thought. So he was kept away from court and allowed to become a Warden where he couldn’t sire his own children or build a rebellion or something in secret. Where his life’s duty was to fight ancient monsters like Darkspawn. Everyone was  _ afraid _ of him. Of what he could do.

Bah, to the lot of them! Alistair didn’t want the throne, not now or ever. He had just watched three comrades die for the love of the Maker! He’d rather honor their deaths in battle then sit around sipping wine and eating cheese. Although the cheese part did sound rather good now.

Soon enough, Duncan returned to him. Alistair rose up and met his gaze. His commander was steeled and had a set jaw; he wasn’t going to like this. 

“The King commands you light the Tower of Ishal to signal Loghan Mac Tir’s advance from the flank.” 

“What.” Alistair’s mouth hung open, then set. “I won’t be in the battle?” Of  _ course _ he wouldn’t. He was the backup plan, the jewel that needed to be protected in case something happened to King Cailan! 

“This is by the King’s orders, Alistair.” Duncan said, more firmly. As if scolding a small child. Alistair groaned. He wasn’t a child, not anymore! He was 19 now! He glared down at Duncan and rolled his shoulders. 

“Alright,  _ fine _ . He needs a  _ Grey Warden _ holding the torch, just in case right?” Although both of them knew why he was being put there. “Just so you know, if he asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line. Darkspawn or no.” 

“Hnng.” Duncan sighed in exasperation, rubbing his temples. “That lip will do you no good.” 

_ The Tower Has Fallen _ .

So he was off. Crossing the bridge over to the Tower of Ishal. Fighting through Darkspawn to get to the Tower of Ishal.  _ Finding out the Tower of Ishal has been taken _ . Well, find him in the alps! Him and a small rag-tag group of surviving guards manage to fight their way towards and up the tower towards the Tower. 

Of course, when they reached the top, there was a  _ bloody Ogre  _ up there. An Ogre! Alistair had never seen a live one, but boy were they big! Very,  _ very _ big. 

And as the only Warden there...time to get serious. “Alright, let’s do this!” He shouted, pulling the guard of his helmet down. “Focus on its eyes and stomach! Watch out for it throwing things at us!” 

Charging forward, Alistair leaped and held his sword in a piercing position and stabbed the Ogre in the gut. It roared and grabbed onto him, hurling him off. Alistair skidded along the floor and clung onto his bloody sword, breathing heavily. Another guard jammed his mace into the open wound. The Ogre screamed and knocked him aside. Meanwhile the singular guard with a crossbow kept taking pot shots at the Ogre’s eyes, who was slowly making its way towards the poor sod.

Alistair rushed the Ogre again and slashed at it’s ankle, cutting through tendon and causing it to collapse onto one knee. With another swing he cut through the arm in the same manner, almost down to the bone, blood spraying everywhere across his armor. With his shield he bashed the damaged arm and caused the Ogre to cry out and flail the half-severed arm about. Leaping up he drove the blade into the Ogre’s collar bone and  _ really  _ dug it in, while the other guards kept on beating down on the creature. Pulling his sword out, he found the jugular and drove his sword into it, then yanked it out and created a huge fountain of Darkspawn blood, getting all over him and into his armor, which was probably one of the grossest things he’s ever experienced, but hey...everyone has to learn how to kill an Ogre eventually!

The Ogre gave out a few death cries before collapsing to the floor, dead. “H-hey, we did it…!” One of the guards panted. 

“Make sure to wipe your mouth! Don’t swallow any blood!” Alistair commanded. The men listened to him, while he took his own helmet off and shook all of the of blood from it. Running his hand through his now totally messed up hair, he peered through the window. 

“Ugh, I’m sure we missed the signal...well, might as well light this thing!” 

Alistair ran to a torch and threw it into the pyre. In an instant, it turned into a raging blaze. The guards cheered. Alistair sighed, and began to wipe down the inside of his helmet. Another day, another sovereign.  ****

  
  


The valley down below was a massacre. Bodies littered the ground left right and center, of human, Darkspawn and elf-kind alike. No one was spared. Things were starting to look grim for the opposing forces in the valley against the Darkspawn, but hope and morale were high. They knew Teryn Loghain would be charging soon with his men! After all, the Tower of Ishal was lit, so any moment they would be charging over the hill with reinforcements. 

Only it never came. 

Hope was met with silence.

No charge ever came. 

King Cailan looked around for his trusted commander and friend but did not see him. No back forces came baring down on the Spawn. Even Duncan, fighting by his side, was lost. Without those forces, they were doomed. Where was Loghain? 

Suddenly, an arrow came flying from on top of a plateau. It struck Cailan through the throat. Cailan stumbled backwards holding his now bleeding throat, looking towards his attacker; but didn’t get a chance. Another arrow lodged in his eye. A third and a fourth lodged in his head and his hand, killing him. 

Duncan whirled around to see who had attacked the King, expecting to see a Darkspawn there; but instead it was a human shrouded in black. Taking one of his daggers, he threw it into the back of the attacker. Hitting his mark dead on, right in the middle of the spine, the attacker crumpled down to the ground, also dead.

It wasn’t long after that Duncan, too, fell in battle...

_ The King Has Fallen _ **_._ **

Alarms blared in Alistair’s mind. Something was wrong. He looked, panicked, down at the battle, noticing that the back flank was  _ leaving,  _ not breaking up the Darkspawn forces! What the hell was Teryn Loghain doing?! 

He was needed down below. He would fight by his brother’s side, no matter  _ what  _ he said. “Come on, we’re going.” He announced to the guards, not content to sit around in this bloody tower anymore. Strapping his blood stained helmet back on, he stopped partway on the stairs. Another alarm, but different. Darkspawn, a lot of them. 

“Hold on, we’re being ambushed!” Alistair shouted over his shoulders, readying his sword and shield. The meager group of guards struck ready positions, preparing for the onslaught. 

A small horde of Darkspawn were clamoring up the stairs, bows and axes at the ready. Alistair raised his shield to deflect the arrows as they flew, proceeding down the stairs with a few hacks and slashes of his sword. Thankfully he had the advantage; stairs in towers were designed for the defending force going down. A few arrows whizzed past his helmet and he only hopped that those behind him were alright. 

A smash and a bash there by the guard with the mace on the other side of him. Arrows flew from behind him. It wasn’t going to be enough. They were going to die on that stairwell; there were just too many Darkspawn crowding up the staircase. Alistair thought of the fire burning brightly behind them, which was meant to represent hope. Only nothing came from it. 

Today was supposed to be a great victory for the army and the Grey Wardens, but it wasn’t. They’d all be slaughtered. Himself included. Putting him out of harm's way did no good in the end. The precious half-prince would be slaughtered. The King would be slaughtered at this rate, too. 

_ Checkmate. _

Alistair would bring down as many of these sorry bastards as his sword would allow! He wasn’t going down without a fight. As long as he still breathed, he would fight. He would give these men behind him a sliver of hope. While he was still alive, he was a Grey Warden. He would always be a Warden for as long as he lived. 

Giving one great shout, he put all of his muscle behind his shield and shouldered his way down the staircase, knocking down as many Spawn as he could. He reached the next floor. With a final bash of his shield he began to hack and slash his way through as many of the bastards as he could. Fountains of blood were left on his wake, and he didn’t even pay attention where his sword was swinging at this point. Just as long as he was getting it in some Darkspawn flesh, that’s all that mattered. As long as he was still alive, that’s all that mattered. 

An arrow embedded itself in his left shoulder, between the chinks of his armor. He hissed in pain, but kept going. Another grazed his thigh, but just bounced off of his armor. Now that he was in the open it was easier to take shots at him like this. Alistair found the archer and narrowed in on it, bashing and mowing down any Darkspawn in his way to get to the son of a bitch. It shrieked when he reached the Genlock and he drove his sword straight up through the beastie’s skull, killing it. Whipping around he lashed and those surrounding him, and hurried on his way. 

Killing every last one wasn’t his goal. Living was his goal.  _ Getting out of here _ was his goal. He had to live in case the King did not. Survival was utmost in his mind. 

Another floor down. 

One more and he was free of this accursed place. More Spawn swarmed in from below, but not enough that he couldn’t handle. Him and the guards. Were the guards still with him? He couldn’t tell anymore. His blood was pumping and he was focused on the task at hand. Alistair continued his bloodbath through the Spawn, cutting down the archers first and clearing a line through those that remained so he could keep going. He thanked the Maker for all of his training as a Templar for his combat skills, or else he’d never had made it. 

One more floor to go. He just needed to make it down another flight of stairs and--

Another arrow. This one hit right between his ribs. Alistair couldn’t brush it off, bending over in pain. Blood began to pool in his mouth when he breathed. He coughed heavily, opening his visor to hack his bloody spit onto the floor. Looking at his wound, he figured he could keep going! It hurt to breathe, wheezing with every breath he took, but he could keep going! It wasn’t so bad-- another arrow hit him in his arm, his sword arm. Gasping for air, he dropped his sword and stumbled backwards and looked at the protruding arrow sticking out of his forearm. That...that wasn’t good at all, was it? At least he still had his shield, right? Staggering forward he feebly flailed his shield at some Spawn, who only kicked him down and knocked him to the floor. Alistair coughed and rolled over, spitting more blood from his mouth. 

This...this was it...wasn’t it…? 

So close...just one more floor to go. He could do this. 

Alistair attempted to rise back up to his feet, but staggered and slipped back to the ground. It was so slick with blood. His blood. He was bleeding from his side, his arm. His shoulder. The Spawn were approaching. He couldn’t breathe. He unlatched his helmet and tossed it aside, looking blankly up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes.

_ Do you want to die? _

Alistair gasped and his eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright when he heard a voice speak to him. He was no longer in the Tower of Ishal, surrounded by Darkspawn and slowly bleeding out, but...someplace else. A ruin? Everything was faded and green, with rocky crags and ancient ruins and strange wisps of light floating around. 

Standing there was an elven woman, her tan skin almost like ash. White markings lined her face and her silver hair was haphazardly pulled into a low bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark eyes looked upon him with not sorrow nor pity, but with a calm understanding of where he was in that moment. She wore naught but a black shroud-like robe.

“Wha...where...where am I…?” Alistair looked around, then back up to the elf. 

“Your spirit has slipped beyond the Veil into the Beyond, if only for a moment.” The elf responded, her voice as haunting as her appearances. She seemed a ghost or a wraith from a story. But despite her eerie appearances, Alistair was not afraid of her. “Do you wish to die?” 

“I--” Alistair looked at his wounds. He swallowed hard. For Ferelden, he  _ couldn’t. _ Not here. “No.”

A small smile. “Then the King has not yet fallen yet.” The elven woman responded, approaching him. She lightly placed her hand on his forehead, passing it over. “The game is not yet set; return back through the Veil. I will see you again.” 

When he opened his eyes again, Alistair was half-naked in a bed. 

“Mmm...what…?”

“Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother will be pleased.” 

**\-------**

“I say, we go to Denerim, find this man, and kill him. Problem solved.” 

“Well,  _ I _ say your idea is  _ stupid _ .” 

Alistair and Morrigan had been arguing since he was well enough to get up and move around. Alright, take that back; since he was  _ conscious _ . They couldn’t agree on anything one way or another, except that north was north and Lothering was the best place to start. Alistair wanted to go to Redcliffe to at least  _ make _ a force with the Arl’s men, who would side with him against whatever it was Loghain was planning to do after the death of Cailan. Alistair was the only heir the throne had; as loathe as he was to take it, he had responsibilities. 

Morrigan believed that finding Loghain and killing him for the assassination of King Cailan was the best and most direct approach. Forgetting that he had an entire army and was currently holed up in the capital. While they currently had...nothing, right now. Oh, not to mention Grey Wardens were  _ outlawed _ apparently. It was the Teryn’s master stroke to try and head up any rebellion Alistair would try to drum up. Well, he would show Loghain! 

Somehow. First they needed supplies and stop arguing about what to do. Morrigan was so stubborn! Why did Flemeth want him to take her along? 

While they continued to argue semantics, all the way down to what kind of food to bring! Alistair glanced over her shoulder. Beyond he swore he saw that same elf woman from the vision he witnessed before being brought to Flemeth’s hut. He blinked and shook his head, squinting to get a better look. But she was gone. Had he imagined it? 

“Alistair, are you even listening?” Morrigan sniped, whapping him in the shoulder. “Oranges or apples? What say you?” 

Blinking back into reality, Alistair looked back down at her, “Oh! Uh...apples.” 

“I knew it. So common.” Morrigan muttered and gestured for the grocer to dole out a certain number of apples for their journey. “How ever are we going to present you to court, hm?” 

“As I am?” 

“What? In bloodstained armor? ‘Twould be  _ one _ way to make an impression.” Morrigan threw her head back and laughed, bagging the apples and storing them in her pack. “Come along, we have more supplies to get before the ground swallows us whole.” 

Alistair looked back over his shoulder as they went, wondering if he really  _ did _ see that elf again, or if it was all just some crazy nightmare from blood loss. 

  
  


\-------

Today was a  _ bad day _ . 

Lets see, what happened first? Was it the starving people of Lothering ganging up on Alistair and Morrigan to turn him in for the bounty on his head as a Grey Warden? Or was it Teryn Loghain’s men wanting to turn him in for the bounty on his head for being a bastard prince? Whatever it was, it was nothing but a  _ nightmare  _ in this quaint backwater village. Posters had been handed out while he had been busy healing from his wounds in Ostagar, and now people knew him as either the Grey Warden who assassinated King Cailan, or the rebel prince who murdered his brother. Take your pick. 

Thankfully it wasn’t all doom and gloom. A sister from the Chantry believed that he wasn’t all bad! Too bad she wasn’t... _ all there _ . 

“The Maker called me to help you,” Leiliana had said when she met Alistair and Morrigan. Morrigan had dismissed her completely and, quite honestly, so had Alistair, but  _ she followed them outside of the city.  _ And helped them with some raiders in the hills. She was handy with a bow, taking them out at long distance, and good with daggers too.

“I think she’s more  _ oooh, pretty colors _ and less  _ Mwahaha! I am Princess Stabity! Stab, kill kill! _ ” Alistair jokingly said to Morrigan when he suggested they take her along the second time. Morrigan threw her arms up. 

“Fine. If you wish to take the clearly mentally impared with us, then be my guest.” 

“You won’t regret it!” Leliana smiled. Sweet girl, she seemed. Alistair was glad to have  _ someone _ on their side after the whole lot of killing and murdering they had been doing, seeing as the whole town was against them. This would take a whole lot of doing to get a rebellion going against Loghain...especially during a Blight! With one Grey Warden left in all of Ferelden! 

He was twice as precious now.  _ Ugh _ . How did he find himself in this position? 

Along the way they came across a prisoner. A Qunari - something nobody  _ saw _ this far south. Of course, Alistair had read about them in books - big, hulking men and women with horns - only this one didn’t have horns. But he was a marvel to look at. Huge, seven foot tall at least! With grey skin and the most striking amethyst eyes he had ever seen. Apparently he had killed an entire farmstead and was left there to be eaten by the Darkspawn, when they came. Because it wasn’t a matter of  _ if _ they would come to Lothering...the horde  _ would _ come to Lothering sooner rather than later. 

“This is a fine creature, left to rot in such a cage. What a pity.” Morrigan suggested. Alistair took the hint. Not daring to go back into town to ask for permission to release this impressive Qunari, he had Lelilana break the locks. Hey, sometimes even rebel princes needed to break the rules! And right now he needed some muscle to get by. 

“I am yours, wherever you shall lead.” The Qunari, called Sten, informed him once he was free. “May we be going? I am eager to be in other places.” 

Finally they met a dwarven merchant named Bohdan and his son, Sandal, on the King’s road and saved them from some bandits. Before it was off to Redcliff - and Alistair would  _ not _ argue anymore with Morrigan on this matter. They needed money, they needed troops, they needed  _ support. _ Right now Ferelden was on the cusp of civil war - and a Blight had begun. He needed everything he could get to stop the Blight and get his ass on the throne before Loghain got too far. 

What  _ was _ Loghain planning, anyway? He had no real stake in this...unless it was all some plan to keep his daughter, Queen Anora, on the throne instead of Alistair. But all of this just to keep her secure…? It seemed awfully excessive… 

These thoughts plagued his mind when he set his head down on the bedroll that night. Despite being in a cage for Maker-knows how long, Sten offered the first watch. He had no armor and no weapon to fight with, but as a Qunari did he really need anything? He could probably just pumple something to death with his fists. 

Alistair’s head felt heavy and soon his eyelids followed. 

When he opened them again he was at Ostagar. Alone. At night. Gasping for air, he jerked around. Was this some kind of nightmare?! Where was Duncan? The King? Loghain? 

“Calm yourself. It is just I.” 

Whirling around, Alistair saw the same ashen-skinned elven woman standing behind him. She was demeure next to him, barely up to his chest, and held up an ornate lantern. Panting, he ran a hand through his hair again. 

“You…!” He gasped. 

“Does this local distress you?” The elf asked, her glossy dark eyes looking  _ through _ him rather than  _ at _ him. “I can change it if you wish.” 

“What? I--”

Suddenly they were no longer at Ostagar, but the battlements of Redcliffe. A location he knew well as a boy. Alistair looked around rapidly, but saw no one else there but him and this wraith-like woman and her lantern. 

Still panting and shaken from confusion, he looked down at her. “Who...where am I?”

“You’re in the Beyond. In a dream.” The elven woman replied, as if it was as simple as explaining day and night. 

“The Beyond? What--”

“Oh. Your people call it the Fade.” She tilted her head to the side. “Forgive me. I am more used to dealing with Elvhan than Shemlen.” 

Taking a few steadying breaths, Alistair ran his hands through his hair again. “Then this...this place is a...a dream?” 

“Yes. I hope this local is suitable for you.” The elf had a ghost of a smile grace her face, making the white tattoos that lined it shift. “I do not know terribly much about you, Alistair, but I know a little.”

“You know me?” He looked back down towards her, confused as to what was going on. Was she a spirit of the Fade?

“Yes. And no, I am not a Spirit. I’m as real as you are.” She smiled, faint, ghost-like. “I can read your mind because this is my dream. I created it so we could talk.” She paused, “It is also your dream so I can gleam a few things about you as well.” 

More questions than answers. What was going on? “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“I have many names.” The elf looked off to the side. “The Dalish call me Ghilana’din. Guide of the Dead.” 

Alistair felt a cold pit form in his throat. “Am I…”

She laughed. A strangely musical sound, haunting as she was. “No. You could have at the Tower, but did not.” She looked back at him and tilted her head. “I felt your whispers in the Beyond in that moment, Alistair, while I dreamt. I was curious and wished to comfort you in your final moments if it were the case...but your will to live was very strong.” Another ghost of a smile. “You interest me.

“I’m what the Dalish call a Somniari, a Dreamer. I can bend the will of the Beyond to my will as I Dream,” She exclaimed, allowing a small wisp to float through her fingers. “It’s how I can gleam some information from you, and could find you while you slipped in between the waking world and the Beyond, at the Tower of Ishal, and now as you dream as well. Despite us being apart.” 

“Sooo...you’re some kind of weird dream reader, right?” Alistair tried to joke. Honestly it was all over his head. 

“If you wish to call it that.” 

“Usually when I dream there’s a lot of whispers and shadows. Darkspawn. Oh, and can’t forget the ones where I wake up in front of the Wardens with my trousers off!” Alistair laughed, gaining a smile from this ethereal elf. “This is...different.”

“You dream of the Archdemon too.” 

“ _ Right. _ I try to forget about that one.” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. “I...guess what I mean to say is, why are you talking to me like this? Why...me?” 

A small smile.

“Why not?”


	2. Cliffs Dyed Red

Alistair awoke with a start. He groaned and ran his hands through his hair.  _ Another _ nightmare about Ostagar. He was having them constantly; all of the death and the torment and the  _ blood _ . He just couldn’t shake them off. There were no more visits from Ghilala’din, only his usual Grey Warden nightmares and these new ones about Ostagar. 

The sun was almost up, so he might as well pull up his tent. Dressing for the day, he rolled up his bedroll and began to take down his tent. They would be at Redcliffe in a few hours. 

“You are up early.” Sten noted. He was awake, as usual. When  _ did _ he sleep, anyway? “I suspect you had a nightmare. You cried out in your sleep.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Alistair groaned. “Stew for breakfast?” 

“Hmph.” Sten snorted, stirring the pot. At least they had acquired a weapon for the Qunari, off of a dead briggand. “Gruel. Supplies are short.”  _ So are you _ , Alistair grumbled to himself, rubbing his face. 

With the sun cresting over the trees, and his tent already packed, Alistair sat by the fire and stared at it while Sten prepared their oh-so-charming breakfast. It wasn’t long before the other members of their little group of vagabonds began to stir, too. 

“Good morning!” Leliana practically sang as she came from her tent, receiving a glare from both Alistair and Sten. Then again, the Qunari never really smiled or did anything  _ but _ glare, it seemed. She cocked an awkward grin. “Wow, tough crowd. Have a bad night?” 

Alistair went to open his mouth. “No. I had a fitful sleep.” Sten replied. Shortly. Because he was always short with everyone. Alistair rolled his eyes. 

“Nothing but sunshine and butterflies here.” Alistair muttered sarcastically. Leliana laughed awkwardly and took a seat. She pulled up her lute and began to strum some tunes while they waited for breakfast to be the right... _ consistency _ . He made a face at that thought. You know what he missed on the road right now? A nice pot of tea. He could really use some tea right now. 

“Food is done.” Sten announced, as unceremoniously as he dished it out to the three of them. As usual, Morrigan was still asleep. Alistair made a face at the appearance of the slop, but knew this was all they had to go on. Once they had an army and the backing of the Arl of Redcliffe, things would be better. Or so he would hope. 

For now, this was how things were. He, the rebel prince. With only these three individuals backing him. Against Teryn Loghain Mac Tir, who had an army. Ugh. Why did his brother have to die in the battle field? Why did he have to be the bastard son of King Maric? Why did a Blight have to be going on at the  _ same time? _

“So Alistair, I’ve been wondering.” Leliana struck up a conversation, looking over at him with her pretty blue eyes. How innocent they were. He looked over at her and wondered how tired he looked to her. 

“Well, I don’t know any Orlesian dances if that’s what you’re thinking.” He commented with a sly grin, raising another spoonful of breakfast into his mouth. Leliana giggled and shook her head.

“No, silly!” She leaned closer, “Are you really who those people said you were? Some bastard prince?”

Oh, great. She joined up  _ without _ knowing about that part? Alistair half chuckled and swallowed his gruel. “Well I’m not a  _ legitimate _ prince.” 

Leliana leaned back, her eyes glittering dangerously. “Oh ho! So you  _ are _ King Maric’s son, then!” 

He shrugged and ate another spoonful. “Never said I  _ wasn’t _ .” He muttered. 

“So we’re really here? To cause a rebellion against Teryn Loghain? In the middle of a  _ Blight? _ ” He didn’t like the glint in her eyes. 

What did she want to hear? That they  _ were _ ? These bards were all the same! “Yes, and my priorities are clear. I am to take the throne and arm Ferelden against the Archdemon. Blah blah. What’s your point?” 

“It just seems awfully romantic!” Leliana sighed all dream-like, “Here you are, alone in the wilderness without a coin or an army to your name! Standing up to take the throne that’s rightfully yours and to unite a nation against the common enemy!” That devilish gleam returned to her normally innocent looking blue eyes. “I can’t  _ wait _ to tell your story, rebel prince!” She practically cackled. 

“Oh,  _ that’s _ your point.” Alistair nervously chuckled. Prosperity. Everyone wanted their hand in his pie. Morrigan was sent with him to do Maker-knows-what, probably something devious for Flemeth’s cause; Leliana wanted to follow him for prosperity, and Sten...well. Sten just wanted to get out of a cage. 

Actually, Sten wanted to know more about the Blight, Alistair had discovered. So he’d follow him as a Grey Warden, not as a prince. Not that the title meant much anyway right now.  _ Once I’m at Redcliffe it will _ , Alistair reminded himself. 

A loud yawn came behind them. “Well, it looks like Morrigan has finally graced us with her presence!” Alistair snarked, and received a flick on his head from her. “Ow! What?” 

“Do not mock me, I require my sleep.”

“For what? Can’t be for beauty.” 

She sneered at him. “If I were you, I would take that  _ back.”  _ He stuck his tongue out at her in response. 

“Or what, you’ll turn me into a toad?” 

“ _ Worse _ .” 

“Hey now, he’s our prince  _ and _ the only Grey Warden left in Ferelden!” Leliana reminded. Morrigan hmphed and snatched her bowl of gruel from Sten and plopped down on the other side of the Qunari. 

“Hurry up and eat. We will be at Redcliffe before noon if your maps are correct.” Sten dosed the fire and began to pack up camp. 

Alistair could not  _ wait. _

\------

Only when they got there, there was no fanfare. In fact, they couldn’t even get to the castle, the drawbridge drawn and the portcullis up. No one answered at the gates, either. The town was in shambles and was built up as if there had been a fight. 

“Strange, the horde shouldn’t have come this way.” Alistair noted. In fact, he didn’t sense any Darkspawn at all. Nothing seemed to be amiss except  _ no one was around _ . The once-familiar streets were all but deserted, with buildings hastily boarded up and crows picking at remains of...something in the streets. He pursed his lips. 

“Surely someone at the Chanty will know what happened.” Leliana suggested.

“Not everything can be answered by your god.” Morrigan groaned with a roll of her eyes. Leliana shot her a pointed look. 

“She’s probably right. It’s at the center of town and a very defensible spot. People go there during attacks on the city, back when the Orlesians occupied the place.” Alistair noted, leading the group through the abandoned boroughs and streets. 

Soon, signs of life came out. Some people were here and there. There were crude barricades set up around the Chantry square. Boxes of armor and weapons. People practicing archery outside of the square. Others practiced with swords. They were all world-weary and exhausted, but trying their best. There wasn’t any army here, only scared militia and untrained men. Alistair swallowed the lump in his throat; he and Sten were the most trained men here. 

“Excuse me,” He approached one of the men sharpening a sword with a whetstone. “Can you tell me who's in charge here?” 

THe man gasped and looked at him. “Yo...you’re from the outside…?” 

“Outside? Of Redcliffe? Err, yes.”

“Everyone! They came from the outside!! Alert Bann Teagan!” He shouted, running towards a group of men tending to equipment and making fletching for arrows. Alistair knew Bann Teagan; he was the younger brother of the Arl of Redcliffe. Why was he here…? He had his own lands to tend to. 

“RIght this way, ser, I’ll take you to him!” The man hurriedly took Alistair and the others into the Chantry.

It was a nightmare inside.

Instead of a place of worship, it was a refugee camp. People whose homes had been destroyed in town had gathered there; they were frightened and afraid. The brothers and sisters were gathered around, praying. There were no soldiers here, either. Only more scared and weary militia. Bookcases and pews were shoved up against the windows, statues had been toppled to try and blockade doors and windows. Alistair looked around at everything before him, wondering what in the Maker’s name was going on in here. 

“Here, my lord. Outsiders!” 

“Oh, thank the Maker you’ve arrived! We can use all the help we can--Alistair?” 

“Well met, Bann Teagan.” Alistair held out his hand and shook it with the Bann’s. Teagan smiled warmly at him, a look of total relief washing over him. 

“Oh, thank the Maker you’re alright!” He breathed as if he hadn’t had a single breath in decades. “Have you come with fresh troops? We sent word to the capital days ago, but still they come! We need men, arms,  _ something _ in order to--”

“Wait, slow down.” Alistair held his hands up. “What’s going on here?”

“You…” Teagan’s face dropped. “Has no one heard? You have no idea what we’ve been going through night after night?” Alistair shook his head. 

“No, we’ve had...our share of problems outside too.”

“Oh dear…” He drooped. “I suppose we’re on our own then. And this is all you brought with you?” Alistair nodded grimly. “I see. Well, I suppose I’ll have to make do with it, then.” 

“What exactly is going on here, Teagan?”

“Night after night, they come.” Teagan looked up,  _ horrified _ . His eyes wide with fear and his jaw set. He wrung his hands. “ _ The walking dead _ . They come in droves,  _ hordes. _ They come from the castle, and they attack without heed or mercy. Our local militia has done all they could to hold them off, but all of the soldiers and knights have been holed up at the castle, waiting to march to Ostagar. We have no knights down here save a few, and I know very few in the castle as is...Alistair, Eamon is very ill.” 

“Eamon, ill?” Alistair breathed. He took a breath, then another. Then the words Teagan spoke to him came crashing down.

Soldiers and knights stuck in the castle. A wave of undead coming from the castle. Arl Eamon Gurrin, the Arl of Redcliffe,  _ who he was relying on for support _ , being gravely ill. His knees buckled and he wobbled. Alistair flailed for support and found Sten’s arm, grabbing onto it. 

“Weak.” Sten said, though he continued to support Alistair’s weight. 

“Last I heard, they had sent the knights out to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes to cure him.” Teagan sadly spoke, his eyebrows furrowed. “I do not know what is going on at the castle at all anymore, whether Eamon lives or what causes these monsters to come out at night…”

By now, Alistair had regained his composure. What was he going to do? “Alright, alright...so horrible monsters, Arl Eamon is sick...but do you know what happened at Ostagar?”

“What? No, I had assumed the King was waiting for our troops before…” Teagan trailed off when he saw Alistair’s hard face. “No. He didn’t, did he.” 

“He’s dead.” Alistair said, “Everyone at Ostagar is dead. Loghain pulled his men out, left everyone to die, and is pinning the whole thing on  _ me _ .” 

“Oh, Maker…” Teagan pressed his hand to his mouth. “What in Andraste’s holy name is he  _ thinking? _ He can’t get away with this, can he?”

“He’s already set it in motion, planted wanted posters for me.” Alistair sighed, “I’m either the Warden who abandoned the King, or the rebel Prince who wanted the throne for himself.” 

Teagan sighed, “As much as I would love to stand by your side and offer you support, I cannot. I must remain here and help these people fight, try to make it to the castle. If we can push them back one more night...I have a backway in.” 

“I know the one! I used to sneak out at night all the time, after raiding the larder and--” Alistair stopped when he got an inscrutable glare from Teagan. “--Right. Sorry.” 

“If you and your team could help us build defenses and help fight, I would appreciate it. We need to know what's going on up at the castle.”

“Agreed.” 

\------

Considering they would be up all night, Alistair decided to take a nap after he did what he could to prepare the forces. He got the blacksmith to get off his drunk ass and start fixing armor and weapons again, got a seasoned dwarven merc to help out, and even gave some pointers to those using swords and maces! He felt good. Morale was high since a Grey Warden was with them (and a Qunari...everyone was way more impressed with Sten then him). It was time for a bit of shut eye so he could be prepared for the onslaught tonight. 

Sten, of course, called him weak (again), though Leliana agreed a nap would be a good idea and decided to as well. Morrigan had vanished somewhere between the road and the Chantry and hadn’t even  _ met  _ Bann Teagan yet, so Maker knows where she went off to. 

And he dreamed.

Like,  _ Dreamed _ . 

Was it his dream, or hers though?

“Hello again.”

“Funny, meeting you here.”

“Why is it so funny?” Ghilana’din asked him, leaning on a staff with a lantern hanging from it. It was a staff this time, last time it was just in her hands. 

“Well I’m about to fight some undead, and you’re called guide of the dead or something, aren’t you?” 

“So they like to call me.” She leaned her head on her staff and studied him. “You say you are to fight undead?” 

“Yes. Your timing is absolutely perfect.” Alistair didn’t know much about this strange...Dreamer who had popped up twice. Why she chose those times to come to him, or why now. He didn’t even understand  _ how _ she was a “Dreamer” or what that even meant, besides she could manipulate dreams somehow. Did it mean she was a mage? He wasn’t sure. Nothing made sense. “I have a question.”

“I sense you have a lot of those.” She chuckled. “About the undead, I presume.”

“Ah, yes. That. Any suggestions on how to fight them?”

“A few.” A ghost of a smile graced her lips. Was it the Fade, or was it everything she did so eerie? Still, he didn’t feel afraid of her. “You’re not fighting a living thing. Do not presume it has stopped when something normally alive would have.” 

“Gooooood to know.” Alistair felt awkward. “Um. They. They do stop though, don’t they?”

“They can, yes. It depends on the power of the one who summoned it.” Another tilt of her head. Ghilana’din looked up at him with her glassy, dark eyes. “Do you know who is summoning them?”

“Err, no. Just that they come from Redcliffe Castle in swarms. Droves. Hordes?” He shrugged. He hadn’t seen them personally but that’s how Teagan described them. 

“Mage, Spirit or Demon, it is very powerful.” Ghilana’din looked distracted for a moment, looking behind her. 

“Ghilana’din?” Alistair asked. 

“No, it is nothing.” She whispered, turning back towards him. “I must leave you now. But you must know that the real enemy you face is not the dead or death itself. It is not the enemy - but it is very powerful, and a puzzle you must solve.” 

“But, I-- I have more questions!”

“Then you must find the answers yourself.” 

His eyes opened, and night had fallen on the Redcliffe Chantry. 

\-------

Daybreak, and they were victorious. 

Just like Ghilana’din said, the undead didn’t last forever. Testing the waters, Alistair mostly had to just wait it out and each one of them would fall over in turn, no matter how hard or how little someone hit them. They just stopped working after a little bit. But if you took off pieces of them, it made them immobile and helped a lot in the long run. But they still moved until some kind of hidden “timer” ran out. 

Once that was done, Teagan led them to the Old Windmill Alistair knew well. 

“We’ll have to go in, small and quiet. I do not know what lies in wait beyond the castle walls.” Teagan stated, a sword and shield strapped to his back and some light chainmaile over his breast. “Your friends can come as well, Alistair, they were a boon in the fight against the creatures.”

_ Well, I wouldn’t call them “friends, _ ” Alistair thought, though he didn’t know them very well yet. It had only been a week or so on the road, and he could take whatever he could get right now. 

About to throw open the door to the windmill, Teagan gasped. “Maker’s Breath!” 

From the hillside came running Arlessa Isolde, and a small complement of guards. Her dress was torn and bedraggled and her hair was matching; she looked like she had seen a thousand horrors beyond her brown eyes. 

Alistair felt a sudden chill in the air. 

“Maker’s breath, Isolde! You’re still alive?!” Teagan ran to meet her, eyes wide with worry and fear. 

“Teagan, I tried to make it down so many times!” Her heavily accented Orlesian whine hadn’t changed any over the years Alistair had been away, “But the monsters hadn’t cleared out enough until--oh. Alistair.”

“Hello Arlessa.” Yep. Definite chill. 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” 

“Helping, actually.” Alistair said shortly, not wanting to elaborate. He knew whatever he said, Isolde would turn it back in his face either way. “What’s going on?” 

Isolde scoffed and immediately turned to Teagan. “Oh Teagan, it’s horrible! Please, you must come with me!” 

“Of course I will, Isolde. We’ll all go together and--”

“No! I will only go back with you.” Isolde snapped. Alistair felt his eyebrow twitch.

“Whatever for? We’re stronger together and Alistair, as a Grey Warden, can help.” Teagan tried to emphasize the fact that he was a Warden, not a prince first. Probably for the best, at least right now. No need to lord over her until he was king. 

“No, I promised to only return with you, Teagan!” 

“Promised? To  _ whom? _ ” Teagan questioned, a brow raised. 

Isoled became uncomfortable, glancing to the side and shifting her weight. “It...it is better if you simply come with me.” 

Teagan narrowed his eyes and used his strategic mind to think. Alistair, instead, opened his big fat mouth. 

“If he’s going into the lion’s den, he should know what he’s walking into first.” 

Isolde glared at him. “As if  _ you _ have any forethought for that, Alistair.” She hissed, “You wouldn’t be welcome, anyway! I will only return with Teagan, and that is  _ final! _ ” 

“This could be a trap…” Alistair leaned in towards Teagan, but of course Isolde heard.

“I would never hurt you, Teagan!” She wailed, “Please, just come with me!” 

“Enough squabbling!” Teagan threw his hands out. “Enough from  _ both _ of you.” He snapped around and shot a glare at Isolde, who Maker actually granted the gift of  _ silence _ to for once, and then at Alistair. Who was taken aback. “Alistair, I will go with Isolde and find out what I can.” 

“But--” Teagan looked behind him towards the windmill, then back into his eyes. Alistair clamped his mouth shut. “Fine, alright. We’ll do it  _ your _ way.” 

“Maker bless you, Teagan! Bless you!” Isolde grasped his hand and smiled brightly. Probably the first time since the look of horror left her eyes. 

And so, they left. 

“Right.” Alistair turned towards his group. “Let’s go through the secret passage and see what we can find out.” He cast a sidelong grin, “And hope Teagan doesn’t get himself killed in the process.” 


	3. Castle Asunder

Well, Redcliffe Castle was different than he remembered.

A lot more corpses lying around. Certainly more popping up and coming back to life at that, too. Wait, was Alistair a bit  _ cynical _ there? It was almost like he had been at this for longer than a single night. 

“Revenant!” Morrigan shouted over the frey they found themselves in the courtyard of the castle. A huge, monstrous creature literally rose from the ground and suddenly Alistair found himself from one end of the courtyard and face-to-face with this thing. Thankfully Morrigan put her money where her mouth was and blasted it in the face with magic, knocking it clear against the wall. 

Alistair found himself falling. Right down against his arse. Ow. 

The huge, armored, demonic looking thing rose back up to its feet and released a burst of magic from it, knocking Alistair into the air  _ again _ . Well, this was turning out to be fun. He saw Sten running in the opposite direction he was flying (and could have sworn he heard him mutter “weak” as he whipped by) towards the horrific creature the group now faced. Leliana fired arrows at it from a safe distance, but once again Alistair found himself being yanked back towards the monster.

Okay, he was getting really sick of this. Almost literally. 

Drawing his sword he drove it right through the monster’s heart but,  _ of course it didn’t work. _ Why would it work? Now the monster was just pissed off.

“‘Tis from the Fade, do not fight it like a human, you imbecile!” Morrigan shouted, firing another blast of magic at the Arcane Horror’s face. 

“Well,  _ I _ didn’t know that!” Alistair shouted back, getting blasted back with the monster’s magic and rolling into a near-by wall. Okay, Templar training then. Without lyrium there wasn’t much he could do, but he could still dampen some of the horror’s magic. Whirling his sword around, he threw it at the monster and it landed in it’s shoulder, releasing a burst of energy that negated all magical effects in the area - hopefully Morrigan was far enough away.

“That is better!” Morrigan commented. 

The horror staggered back and held it’s head like it had a migraine. Sten whacked it upside the head with the flat of his blade, causing it to stagger even more to one side, collapsing onto one...erm, did it have legs? Alistair wasn’t sure. 

Morrigan released a huge wave of ice that drove massive spears through the creature, pinning it to the ground. Leliana, who had  _ somehow _ climbed up onto the ramparts during this whole mess, leaped down with her daggers and drove them into the skull of the monster, shattering it and the ice to pieces. Right, that was done and dusted. A pain in the ol’ tush that one, but at least they got it. 

“Any more of these... _ things _ , Morrigan?” Alistair asked, sheathing his sword. 

“I cannot say for certain, but perhaps.” Morrigan looked up towards the castle proper. They weren’t getting in the front gates, they were barred shut; but there were other doors they could try. “The Veil is extremely thin throughout the castle. Something, or someone, has torn it asunder. ‘Tis no wonder why walking dead and other monstrosities wander the halls.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Leliana panted, also sheathing her daggers.

“So. Ah. Can we fix it?”

Morrigan made a face. “Fix...what?”

Alistair shrugged. “You know. The Veil.”

Morrigan scoffed. “I cannot fix it anymore than you can tie your own shoes, Alistair.”

“Hey! I can tie my own shoe-- that’s not the point.” Alistair rubbed his temples. “Is there a way to stop this?”

“There is, yes.” Morrigan clutched her staff, “We find the mage responsible for drawing too much power out, and kill him or her. The demons that are attempting to escape the Fade are attracted to the mage’s power, for it would take a great deal to make a tear as sizable as this. They want the mage’s power, so we cut it off. Simple.” 

Alistair looked aghast at her, then closed his mouth. “I don’t think it’s that simple, Morrigan. We can’t just march in here and kill someone!” 

“You asked for how to stop it, and I told you.” She snapped, glaring up at him. 

“I agree with Morrigan, we cut the power off at its source.” Sten stated, his sword at his back. 

“L-lets not act too hasty and keep going for now, yes?” Leliana smiled awkwardly. “We should find Bann Teagan and Arlessa Isolde first before making any rash decisions.” 

So into the castle proper they went. Alistair’s feet knew the way, but he remembered things differently. He hadn’t been here since he was 11 or so. This table had been moved, or that painting was in that other hall before. Nothing was the same as it was. Plus all of the  _ death _ . It clung to every wall, every corridor. People had been killed indiscriminately here. The servants were all dead, the guards were gone; he wasn’t even sure if Eamon had survived this mess, with how ill he was. Who could have done this?

Finally, they reached the main hall. In there stood Isolde and...Teagan, acting like a buffoon. A young boy was there, was that Connor? He hadn’t been born when Alistair left for Templar training - but he had heard of him from missives and letters - but the boy didn’t...seem...quite normal. Something was wrong. 

“That boy is possessed.” Morrigan whispered to Alistair, “I can feel a demonic presence within him.” 

“What…?” Alistair looked back towards her, then back over at the boy. He couldn’t have been much older than 10 or 11, scrawny little thing, but his beady little eyes bored right into Teagan as he bounced and danced around the hall.

“NO!” 

A loud voice suddenly boomed throughout the hallway, echoing from every wall. Alistair felt it shake him to his core. Teagan stopped dancing and Isolde, frazzled and tired Isolde, flinched where she stood and looked down with complete horror at the boy. The boy was looking right at Alistair. 

“I SAID ONLY TEAGAN COULD COME BACK WITH YOU, MOTHER. WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME.” 

“I...I didn’t, Connor!” Isolde’s voice cracked, filled with the tears she refused to let spill down her face. “I-I don’t know how they got in! I swear to you!” 

“YOU’RE NOT A VERY GOOD LIAR, MOTHER.” 

“No, please, Connor! I-I-I did as you asked! I brought your Uncle here, and look how he entertains you!” Isolde pleaded, her eyes wide with fear and tears. 

“HE BORES ME. PERHAPS I SHALL FEED HIS EARS TO THE DOGS, LIKE THE ELVEN SERVANTS. OH, HOW THEY CHEWED FOR DAYS ON THOSE!” The boy, who  _ was _ Isodle and Eamon’s son, Connor, laughed, clapping his hands. “THESE INTRUDERS WILL SIMPLY HAVE TO ENTERTAIN ME AS WELL. YOU WANT TO KEEP FATHER ALIVE, DON'T YOU MOTHER?”

“Y-yes…!” 

“Excuse me, but we’re not a circus troupe.” Alistair quipped. This was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Suddenly the corpses lining the room sprang to life and attacked them. “Bloody hell, why do I speak?”

“I ask myself that every day.” Morrigan snipped. 

More corpses to fight. Just  _ charming _ . These were close to the source and would take a lot longer to run out of “time,” Alistair had noted. As much as he hated to do it, it was time to chop them into little tiny bits or set them on fire - wait,  _ did _ Morrigan know any fire spells? - until nothing was left to attack them with. 

Didn’t take long, really. Even with a demon controlling them, corpses were phenomninally stupid. Handy in a fight as fodder though. 

“THEY BORE ME AS WELL, MOTHER.”

“Connor, I--”

“So he is the source of the corpses attacking the village, I take it?” Morrigan asked, staff still at the ready. 

“What? N-no! Connor never did anything wrong!” Isolde pleaded, tears running down her face. “Please, he’s just a boy!”

“A boy, but he  _ is _ possessed I am afraid.” Morrigan had a  _ tinge _ of compassion in her voice. Enough to color Alistair surprised. “Soon he will become an abomination, and nothing left of ‘Connor’ will remain.”

“N-no, he’s not! He’s just lost, confused! I’m sure we can fix this! Can’t we, Connor?” She forced a smile as she looked over at Connor, who still store straight ahead with his beady, soulless eyes. 

“THERE IS NO MORE FIXING ME, MOTHER. I WANTED FATHER ALIVE AND HE IS STILL ALIVE, ISN’T HE?” 

“Y-yes, but--”

“THAT WAS IT. IT WAS A FAIR DEAL.” 

“He has made a deal with a demon, Isolde. There is no going back.” Morrigan explained. “Connor must be a mage who opened the rift--”

“NO!! Connor would  _ never _ do this!” Isolde rejected the idea so hard Alistair felt like he got slapped in the face. Ouch! “It’s that  _ mage! _ He opened the rift!  _ He _ summoned the demon here!! It’s all  _ his _ fault!!” 

The group looked at each other. “The...mage…?” Alistair asked. 

“I AM TIRED, MOTHER. TIRED OF THEM!” 

“P-Please, just...just leave! Connor gets upset, and...and bad things happen when he gets upset!” Isolde pleaded. “For your lives, please leave!!” 

“Where is the mage, Isolde?” Alistair asked again, cautiously. 

She made a face. “In the dungeons.” 

“Alright, we’ll go.” Alistair said, pensively. He didn’t want this demon to become upset, because it could do a  _ lot _ worse than throw a bunch of corpses at them. Honestly, Templar Training covered demons and abominations, and Alistair would  _ rather  _ take the Darkspawn over them. Morrigan gave him a look but said nothing. So quietly, they left the grand hall. 

“Oookay, who else was unnerved by that?” Alistair asked while he led them down towards the dungeons. 

“That was rather terrifying…” Leliana admitted, “I can’t help but feel for poor Isolde. That is her son, yes? To have him possessed by a demon…”

“We should have killed him.” Morrigan huffed from where she lagged behind. “‘Twould have been a kindness to both the boy and the mother.”

“We’re not killing  _ anyone _ .” Alistair gave her a pointed look. She rolled her eyes at him. “I want to find out exactly what happened here before we go in, swords swinging. And I don’t want to have to break up this family if I can help it.” 

“‘Tis already broken up.” Morrigan insisted, “Their boy is possessed, their mother distressed and their father dying. The demon appears the only thing keeping the Arl alive right now.”

Alistair set his jaw and whirled around. Morrigan stopped before him and met his gaze, her arms crossed. “You know what? FIne. Yes, things are  _ bad _ right now. Yes, they are  _ all of those things.  _ But I refuse to give up.” He jabbed her in the chest with his index finger. “And I don’t need you being all  _ doom and gloom _ about every single  _ fucking  _ thing anymore! Because unlike  _ you _ , I give a damn about this bloody world! So shut up, for  _ once _ .” 

Morrigan blinked. She was silent. Alistair huffed and turned on his heel and proceeded walking. 

“Surprising.” Sten noted. Alistair cocked his head up towards the Qunari. “You  _ do _ have a backbone afterall.” 

\------

So they found the mage. 

“I promise I didn’t do any of it!” The poor man, a bedraggled mage named Jowan, cried out from his cell. “Well, I  _ did _ poison the Arl, which triggered Connor’s magic to make a pact with the demon that tore the Veil open but--”

“Alright, hold up, wait a minute.” Alistair waved his hands in front of him. “You  _ what. _ ”

Jowan took in a deep breath. “I poisoned the Arl.” 

“Ooohkay. So you’re a criminal and the reason why he’s sick. You’re getting punched in the face the second I can do so. Next.” Alistair felt his ire building. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Jowan continued to rave, “I was paid to do it, by Teryn Loghain! See, I’m an Apostate and he would keep my secret if I did this for him, and he knew I was being hired by the Arl to teach Connor magic and--”

“I don’t need to know why!” Alistair groaned. Though it  _ did _ add another reason to punch Loghain when he met him. Duncan’s death, Cailan’s death, the  _ reason why the entire Grey Warden Order was gone _ , and now this. 

“He’s a chatty captive,” Leliana whispered. “Wish half of the men I’ve interrogated as a Bard were as chatty.” 

Another thing Alistair needed to address later. Sweet little Leliana, being a Bard with a capital B. It wasn’t the first time she’s mentioned it. 

Swallowing, Jowan continued, “And I trained Connor in magic. He was showing...signs. But the Arlessa didn’t want him to go to the Circle.” Of  _ course _ Isolde didn’t want her baby boy separated from her and found an Apostate to train him. “But I didn’t teach him anything complex. Just basic spells to control the, you know...the fireballs.” He took a deep breath, “I think when I poisoned his father is when he met the demon. We all face them constantly in the Fade, we mages--” He stopped when Alistair’s jaw set when he derailed again, “--I noticed the Fade tear not long after. That’s when the Arlessa threw me down here. And Connor started acting strange.” He took in a deep breath, “So none of it is my fault!” 

“You’re still getting punched.” Alistair sighed and ran his hands down his face. Ugh, what a  _ bloody _ nightmare. Most of it was Isolde’s fault, really. If she had just sent Connor to the Circle of Magi, none of this would have happened. The poisoning of Eamon would have, but none of the Veil tearing or the demons or the undead or...bah. 

“But I might be able to help.” Jowan offered in a whisper. 

“What? Help  _ how? _ ”

“Connor is possessed, and there is only really one way to undo a possession…”

“‘Tis to kill the demon in the Fade itself.” Morrigan finished for him, “However, such a process is impossible with only two mages and no lyrium.”

“Right,” Jowan continued, “If we had two more mages and a lot of lyrium, we could send a fifth mage in to slay the demon possessing Connor. But...but I’m a Blood Mage.” 

Everyone took a step back. 

Alistair felt his skin crawl. Blood magic was forbidden, for a reason. It required demons to learn how to use it, for one thing, and also attracted their attention. Another reason why it was so terrifying was because it could do  _ anything _ . You could use the blood of your enemies to turn their own bodies, their own  _ minds  _ against themselves. Cook their brains alive inside of their heads. Cause them to bleed from every orifice. Could turn them into literal slaves caught inside of their own bodies. Blood magic was insanely powerful and only practiced in the Tevinter Imperium, which was why Magisters were so awesomely powerful and feared throughout the rest of Thedas. 

Despite their reactions, Jowan continued, “Instead of lyrium, I can use blood to initiate the ritual...and I could do the ritual by myself, sending your mage into the Fade.” He gestured at Morrigan with his head, “The downside is I would need a  _ lot  _ of blood. All of it, in fact. Someone would need to sacrifice themselves in order for me to perform it.” 

“No, absolutely not! Out of the question!” Alistair announced as soon as he heard it. For one thing, he was  _ not  _ going to resort to blood magic, no matter how much easier it seemed. Secondly, he wasn’t going to sacrifice  _ anyone! _ And he knew exactly who would offer themselves up. 

“Why not? ‘Tis a fair trade.” Morrigan noted. 

Alistair rounded on her. “You...you would support  _ Blood Magic?”  _

“It has its uses, and it is not disallowed for Grey Wardens, is it not?” Morrigan replied simply, shrugging her shoulders. 

“I agree with Alistair, it’s not an option.” Leliana said, “Blood Magic is a blight in the Maker’s eyes, and we shouldn’t need to sacrifice someone to save Connor.” 

“What would you do then? Go to Lake Calenhad and recruit mages to save him?” Jowan asked. 

Alistair opened his mouth, and then nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s  _ exactly  _ what I’ll do!” He snapped his mouth closed and nodded again. “It’s not far from here, only three days on foot, and we’ve gotten rid of most of the corpses by now!” 

Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “And you would let an abomination run free for a  _ week _ while you do this?” 

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Alistair quipped. Sten groaned. Alistair looked over at him. “What, you have a complaint too?”

“I fail to see how saving the life of one human child has any relevance on the Blight.”

“Well…” Alistair thought for a moment, “I  _ do  _ have the old Grey Warden treaties with me. By going to the Circle of Magi I can recruit their help for the Blight, as well as help Connor! By saving the Arl’s child, I can also gain his help against the Blight too.”

“A dying man who has no army.” 

Alistair tutted. “But if we can find the Urn of Sacred Ashes, we can heal him and summon all of his knights and army back!” 

Sten thought, then sighed unhappily. “You have a very backwards way of going about this, Warden.” 


	4. Tower, Reversed

Kinloch Hold. Not the place Alistair wanted to  _ be _ per-say, but he had no choice. Treaties needed to be pursued - especially since he was  _ still _ the rebel prince and  _ still  _ only had these three yahoo’s following him - and a boy needed to be saved from possession. So, here he was. 

Things were quiet here. Too quiet, some might say. But the little settlement outside of the Circle was a sleepy little place, the pub was even sleepier, and one would think nothing happened here. Probably nothing did, except a tower, full of mages that could destroy the entire lake, lived there. 

But once they took the boat over, it was anything  _ but  _ sleepy.

Maker’s blood, did  _ nothing _ go smoothly when the Blight started? 

Templars were frantically running about, the doors were sealed and there were wounded Templars  _ everywhere.  _ Great! Alistair sighed and ran his hand down his face, and began to look for the Knight-Commander. He wasn’t hard to find among the others, barking orders and wearing fancier armor than everyone else. He was a hardened, grizzled older man, his armor stained with fresh blood. Oh boy, this was going to be  _ f u n. _

The Knight-Commander noticed Alistair and his gaggle of colorful curiosities (okay, maybe just Sten counted) before he could speak. “You there. I don’t care what you want, but you need to leave. The Circle is no longer under our control.”

“Great!” Alistair chirped sarcastically, “Sounds like grand old time. What do you need?” 

The Knight-Commander opened his mouth, then closed it. “Didn’t you hear me? THe Circle is no longer under our control!” He held his hands out, then gestured towards his uniform to clearly demonstrate he was a Templar, and in charge. 

“Right, and I have papers here that say you have to provide the Grey Wardens support during a Blight.” Alistair countered, “Well, there’s a Blight going on now. I’m a Grey Warden. Your Circle is apparently collapsing, and I need support. So, tell me what you need to get the Circle  _ back _ under your control so I can get the support I need, and we’ll all be friends!” 

“You--” The Knight-Commander started, then stopped. He sighed angrily and rubbed his temples. “Look, I know about those treaties, but I cannot honor them right now!” He gestured towards his injured men, “I cannot spare the men. I am sending for the Rite of Annulment as we speak.” 

“Ah, so you wish to terminate the mages locked within.  _ Wonderful. _ ” Came Morrigan’s sarcastic comment. 

“As I said, the Circle is not--”

“‘Within your control,’ yes yes.” Alistair dismissed the Knight-Commander. “What, exactly, is going on?” 

Another angry sigh. “The mages are out of control.” He informed. “Uldred and many other of the Senior Enchanters have gone  _ mad _ . Demons and Abominations stalk the tower, converting those who do not resist, and slaughtering those who do! My men cannot stand against them.” Alistair wanted to roll his eyes, but resisted. That was the whole  _ point _ of Templars, this kind of situation. What were these men doing, picking their noses? “I don't even know if the First Enchanter is alive or not. I will not take anyone’s word that the Circle is back under control until I  _ see _ him and hear it from his mouth.” 

Okay, tall order there. But at least it was something. 

“Glad you came now?” Morrigan quipped. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Alistair groaned. “Alright, fine. Let us try to get the situation under control and bring back the First Enchanter.  _ Then _ we talk about my troops.” 

“Fine.” The Knight-Commander responded. 

“ _ Fine. _ ” 

“Gentlemen.” Leliana chuckled. The two men turned from each other and Alistair and his group of misfits headed towards the barred doors. 

The doors slammed shut behind them, the bars banging closed and locking them in. Alistair sighed and put his helmet on, lowering the visor. 

“Alright everyone, it’s do or die in here. No going back.” 

“How marvelous we’re sacrificing ourselves for those who could not save themselves from captivity.” Morrigan commented dryly. Alistair gave her a look - not that she could see it through his helmet - but she didn’t say anything else. 

“The mages are kept in the Circle Tower to keep them safe, Morrigan.” Leliana decided to stir the pot, however. Alistair inwardly groaned. Here we go…

Morrigan scoffed. “‘Tis more like they are kept  _ here _ to keep the outside world safe from  _ them _ .” She gave a wave of her hand, “The world  _ fears _ magic, and mages along with it.” She looked around at the elegant molding and masonry that went into the stonework of the hall they moved down. “‘Tis nothing but a  _ prison _ . One in which they could escape from. Easily. Should they wish it.” 

Leliana frowned. “But the Templars--”

“Are not in control.” Morrigan shot Leliana a glare, “I have no pity for those who will not save themselves.” 

“But the Maker says--” 

“Tah! As if your Chantry has anything to do with it! ‘Tis merely the fear of men that--”

“Ladies, can we focus, please?” Alistair stepped between the pair of quarreling women. “We have Abominations and Demons to kill, right?” 

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at him. “I would not be here helping you with these pathetic mages if it were not for you, Alistair.” She said, her words sharp and dangerous. “Unfortunately for me,  _ someone _ needs to ensure you stay  _ alive _ . Sadly, it seems to be that task has fallen unto me.” 

“Say  _ what _ now?” Alistair snapped at her, “Since when do you care about  _ me? _ ” 

“Lest you have forgotten, you are the  _ only _ heir to the throne.” Morrigan pointed at him, “ _ And _ the only Grey Warden during the Blight. And we need a Grey Warden to slay the Archdemon, do we not? So it remains in my best interest to keep you  _ alive _ for the time being.” She huffed some of her black hair out of her eyes and marched past him. “Count yourself lucky you are so  _ needed _ , otherwise I would have left long ago.” 

“I, you!!” Alistair shouted after her, but found his tongue was tied. Leliana laughed at how flustered he was, patting him on the shoulder. 

“I think she’s warming up to you a little, Alistair.” The Bard chuckled.

“May we proceed? These delays are asinine.” Sten groaned. 

So they did. 

They checked the first few rooms - nothing. It looked like most of the Templars had cleared out by this point, and there weren’t any mages, either. If so, where were they? Alistair felt uneasy. Something didn’t feel right. He could almost  _ feel _ magic buzzing in the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. And he was no mage, merely a Templar-in-training before he became a Warden. Now he could add “Rebel Prince” to his resume. Not bad for a 19 year old Junior Warden. 

Then, it happened. They entered into a small room where a group of mages had gathered. 

“Look out!” 

Alistair reacted on instinct. Tilted his shield just so; the fireball hit his shield in such a way that the flame didn’t spit back in his face, but fanned around him. Before him stood a giant monstrosity. Made of nothing but flame and molten lava, pouring from every limb and dripping like blood onto the floor was a creature that he couldn’t quite describe. Eyes that burned like coals in the fire at night. Fiery claws that ripped through the air towards him, his shield blocking each blow while he did a dance backwards away from the monster. Alistair’s heart thudded in his ears while he moved away from it, his sword tight in his hands as he lashed forward, cutting through the burning arms but merely slicing through fire. 

Ice encased the arms a moment later, and he could cut through them now, a solid mass. A roar unlike anything he had ever heard before echoed throughout the room. More ice appeared. Huge spikes of it; chunks being hurled at the demon, bits of it being frozen solid right where Alistair stood. Sten leaped into the air and cleaved a frozen chunk of it right off and into the ground. Finally, a fist of earth came out and struck the mostly-frozen monstrosity in the face and shattered it to pieces, the rest melting away into the stone floor.

“You! Greigor let you through?!” An elderly mage approached them, staff at the ready. “I do not care who you are, but if you come with the Rite, I will not hold back!” She twisted it in her hands, magic glowing around it.

Alistair raised his visor and dropped his sword. “No, no! We’re not here with the Rite of Annulment! I’m a Grey Warden, come looking for support for the Blight.” 

The elderly woman narrowed her eyes. “Huh, well you chose one hell of a time to come.” She gave a grim chuckle, though her eyes remained serious. “Why did Greigor let you through?” She lowered her staff. 

Alistair let out a breath. “He told me if I could find the First Enchanter and calmed things down in the Circle, I could get the support I needed from it.” 

She scruitenized his group. “And...you’re it?” 

“Sadly, what you see is what you get.” He gestured towards Sten. “But we do have a Qunari!” 

“Hrn.” 

The woman sighed and strapped her staff to her back, gesturing for the others to follow suit. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to do.” Straightening up, she gave an incline of her head. “My name is Wynne. I managed to get out a few survivors, and we’ve been holding out against stragglers for the time being. I don’t know where Irving, the First Enchanter, is. He was taken by Uldred when this...nonsense first began. 

“I suspect they’re up at the top of the tower.” She continued to explain, “He’s been turning mages into Abominations and sending them and demons down periodically to drag us up or kill us if we don’t comply. I don’t know how many of us are left, but if we can find Irving, I will help you.” 

“I--You’ll help us?” Alistair was about to ask about a woman of her age helping them, but quickly thought better of it. 

“I am one of the Senior Enchanters here. I’m a lot tougher than I look.” Wynne cocked a half-smile. “Petra, look after the young ones.” 

“Wynne, are you sure you’ll be alright?” THe younger mage asked, “You were...so ill before...I--” 

“I will be fine.”

“So, we are taking in the matronly now. Wonderful.” Morrigan muttered. 

Wynne narrowed her eyes at her. “Best watch that tongue, young lady, or I’ll see it nailed to your coffin.” 

“Ooh. Now, you, I like.” Wynne hmphed at the comment and led the group towards the exit of the room. 

There was a barrier surrounding the doorway. Wynne raised her staff and began to take it down. 

“Wow, demons got through your barrier?” Leliana marveled. 

“It was...not a strong one.” Wynne noted. “I was attacked by a demon, protecting the little ones. I erected it afterwards, when I was weakened.” WIth the barrier lowered, she gestured towards it. “I am better now though. I am fit and hale to assist you in your journey.” 

“Yes, I hope so! Do let us know if you have any further troubles.” Leliana smiled. 

“Do not treat me as if I am old, to be knitting socks on some rocking chair by a beach. I can handle myself.” Wynne snapped. 

Note to self: Never mention Wynne’s age. Ever. 

At first, things were quiet. A walking corpse or three there, an Abomination there - Maker those things were terrifying! - but all was well. Occasionally they ran into the odd demon or Shade here or there. But as they proceeded up the tower, the worse things got. The more...death there was.

Templar bodies began to be strewn about the corridors. Blood splattered the walls. Some mages were dead where they lie...some children, even. Demons and Abominations alike did not spare anyone in their slaughter, and the more horrifying it became. One could see the burn marks from fireballs being hucked to and fro, the ice still remained frozen in place in horror around one poor apprentice's dead body, an Arcane Horror hung from the ceiling where it was punctured with a Stonefist. Bodies and corpses lay everywhere, rotting in their own blood, and it didn’t get any easier going upwards, knowing that any one of these Abominations could be a child mage. Was someone at some point that Wynne probably knew. Was friends with that mage laying over there. Had been a normal, happy person just moments before this... _ madness _ began.

And the corpses kept on walking, too. 

It was why everyone burned bodies in Thedas. The dead always came back to life, somehow. Unless you were in Navarra, but they were weird. Morrigan and Wynne had to set the piles upon piles of bodies aflame as they went, so none of them could rise up to charge downwards and kill those few who remained behind, or come at their party from the back. 

People Wynne knew. 

There was some light at the end of the tunnel. They found some living mages in all of the death and decay. Hidden away behind secret bookcases, inside cupboards, some of them buried under the corpses of their friends. “Hurry along now, you’ll be safe down on the first floor,” Wynne always assured. 

But it wasn’t...a whole lot. Kinloch Hold would never be the same. 

Finally, on the second to top floor, they reached the Great Hall. It led to the stairs leading to the Templars Quarters, which were on the top floor. Then it was just the viewing room and they were done sweeping the entire place! Not too bad, if Alistair said so himself! Really, what  _ were _ those Templars doing? 

Until they met the demon. 

“you look so tired. maybe all of you should rest. a nice long rest is all you need right now.” 

It’s smooth, placid voice was unlike any demon Alistair had encountered to date. He could handle any other demon. The roars of the fiery Rage demons, no big deal. Heard them a dozen times on the way up here. Connor’s booming, sickening voice that wormed its way through your entire body? Nah, nothing compared to this. This, he couldn’t fight. 

“there is no reason to fight anymore. you should all just rest.” 

“Resit! All of you must resist!” Wynne pleaded, “Or else all hope is lost!” 

But it was too late. Alistair was already on the ground. 

“that’s it. just lay there and have a nice, good long rest. you’ve earned it.” 

And his eyes closed. 

When he opened them, he was standing in an ancient fortress. Grey Wardens surrounded him, cheering. Everything seemed foggy, hazy. He couldn’t quite remember how he got here, or what was going on, or where he was. But it didn’t matter, did it? He was victorious! Wearing shiny new armor and a crown upon his head! He beamed brightly and approached the top of the steps in the center plaza, where Duncan was waiting for him.

Wait, Duncan? Wasn’t he dead? 

“Isn’t this grand?” Duncan smiled just as brightly. When had Duncan ever smiled? “All the Archdemons, defeated! The Blights, gone forever! You, King Alistair, have done it. It is all thanks to you. Go! Celebrate your Victory!” 

Alistair beamed and turned towards the applauding crowd of Grey Wardens. In the front of the crowd stood his father, King Maric, and beside him was his brother, Cailan, and the other side his half sister, Goldana. His entire family there, applauding him. He had done it! He had been victorious; he stopped the Blight for all time, and united Ferelden under a common throne! 

But...his father was dead, wasn’t he? And Cailan too? And come to think of it, he never met Goldana, only followed up on her through contacts…

And what would Grey Wardens do without Blights?

His mind was so hazy...

“Isn’t this grand?” Duncan said brightly. Alistair turned to him and noticed him smiling like a thousand suns. He had never seen Duncan smile before. And...he was dead, too. 

“Duncan...aren’t you...dead?” 

“Dead? Why would I be dead?” Duncan was taken aback by the comment, but laughed it off. “Come now, you’ve earned your rest and your celebration!” Alistair’s eyebrow twitched at the word ‘rest.’ That seemed familiar somehow. 

“But there’s no time for rest. I’m King now, and I have a country to run, right?” 

“Ah, but everything is taken care of,” Duncan was still smiling. Alistair was starting to notice how  _ creepy _ it was. Something felt wrong. “All you have to do is spend time with your family, and rest. You’ve done your duty, what you’ve always dreamed of.” 

Rest, that word again. Something made him feel uneasy. 

“But...Kings have a lot of responsibilities--”

“Come now, boy. Enjoy life while you can! You’ve earned your greatness!” 

Alistair tilted his head to the side, and took a step backwards. “I...rather think I haven’t.” 

Duncan’s smile faded. “Foolish child. I have given you all you wanted, and yet you still deny me!  _ Fine _ ! I will simply devour you instead!” 

Suddenly, everything went silent and the world was torn asunder. Alistair was back in his old, bloodstained armor. Rocks and spires, twisted into shapes he could barely comprehend split the earth and the world turned into a strange shade of green, ruins and skulls lining the area where people once were. Alistair quickly lowered his visor and drew his sword and shield. 

Duncan’s form tore apart to reveal a different kind of demon than he had seen. It was an obvious male form, but in a shape that was very...pleasing to the eye. A long tail whipped out behind it, with long curved horns almost encircling where the ears would have been, should the creature have been an elf or a human. Moreover, they were completely naked save for a criss-cross of plates where their unmentionables would be, leading down to torn lace that fluttered to the ground. Violet flame burst from the head. He stood with a sultry pose, glaring at bottomless voids at Alistair. 

“I gave you all in which you desire, yet you still want more! Foolish mortal!” 

“I’m less of a fool than you!” Okay, maybe witty one liners for later. The desire demon rushed towards him, claws drawn and lightning charged in hand. Alistair did as he was trained to do and dampened the spell with his sword, ducking down to the ground and angling his shield away from it. This only served to piss the demon off even more, who fired another lightning spell  _ at the same time  _ as the other one. 

With his sword being used, he couldn’t really get into this song-and-dance number. Grunting, Alistair released the dampening and charged, but the lightning just batted the damn thing away instead! Great, now he was unarmed. So, he did what anyone with a fist would do. He charged forward with his shield up and bashed right into the demon shield-first and, while the thing was staggered from that, punched it right in the gut. It was enough to knock the wind out of the demon, and get it to quit with the lightning. Alistair whipped around and grabbed his sword, ready for the counter attack when  _ more lightning  _ came his way. 

This time it hit him square in the chest and sent him flying backwards into one of those spires he saw popping up from the ground. The wind got knocked out of him - and his entire body was spasming from the electricity - dropping his sword and shield on the ground. His body followed soon after. More lightning struck him and zapped him to another pillar, which just made him feel even  _ worse _ . 

Clattering to the ground, Alistair tried to catch his breath and get his muscles to stop  _ freaking out _ . Right now he had no control over his body and couldn’t even  _ move  _ from the electrical voltage that had been put through him. Meanwhile the desire demon was taking his sweet time strutting over to him, lightning crackling between his claws. 

“Oh I am going to enjoy this so, so very much…” He licked his lips. 

Oh, shit. Oh,  _ fuck _ . What happens when you die in the Fade, again? He forgot that part of Templar training. He really didn’t want to become an Abomination! Alistair tried to wiggle or do  _ something _ to get his damned weapons in his hands to stop the inevitable from happening.  _ Maker, please, I’m sorry for all of those times I raided the larders! Please do  _ _ something! _

The desire demon suddenly stopped moving. And then his entire body arched in the air and he let out an excruciating scream. Bars of energy surrounded the demon and began to slowly crush him. Alistair could see his claws bending in ways they shouldn’t, followed by his hands and--he couldn’t watch anymore. 

“...Thank you!” Alistair breathed, noting he would be extra diligent in his prayers tonight. Or, rather, actually  _ say _ his prayers tonight. 

“Alistair!” 

A familiar voice called out. From the shadows, gliding in like some kind of ghost came Ghilala’din, carrying her lantern-staff. Though she swooped in like some kind of wraith, for Alistair she was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a very long time. He beamed up at her, though she couldn’t see it through his helmet. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He almost flirted. Okay, maybe he  _ was _ flirting but he still wasn’t sure if she was real or not. And he was delirious with pain and  _ couldn’t move _ right now, but that's besides the point. 

Well, if he was flirting, she didn’t seem to notice. “I came as soon as I noticed you in the Fade. I am sorry I didn’t arrive sooner.” 

“Yeah, well, could’ve saved me some muscle spasms, but I’m still alive.” If being alive in the Fade counted? This... _ was _ the Fade, right? Of course it was, he only saw her in his dreams, so it had to be. Seemed pretty dream-like so far, anyway. Grunting, he managed to stagger to his feet and grab his sword and shield. He quickly used them on the still-being-crushed desire demon to finish the job. What happened to  _ demons _ when they died in the Fade? Did they just disappear or did they get reborn or something? Bah, too much to think about. “Where am I, anyway?”

“The Fade, inside a Sloth demon’s domain.” Ghilana’din explained, rising to her feet as well. She was so small… “He is a very powerful demon, and I can tell that associates of yours are here as well. They are trapped, just as you are.” 

“So...how do we get them  _ un-trapped?” _

“We find the demon and slay him.” Ghilana’din said, frankly, her dark eyes trained on him. Odd how they never found his, though. “I can help you.”

“You will? Oh, thank the Maker!” He suddenly reached out and took her hands in his. They were small and thin, delicate like a little doll’s. How sweet. His little dream doll. She did almost look like one, come to think of it. Past the eerie ghost-like vibes she gave off, that is. “I hardly know my left foot from my right half the time, so this will be  _ much _ easier with you!”

A chuckle, “You’re very strange, but I like that.” 

“I get that a lot.” Alistair grinned. He liked her laugh, too. 

“Come with me.” She raised her staff and held her hand out, taking one of his in hers and guided him down a dark path he could not see, into the shadows of the Fade. 

Alistair couldn’t see anything, but he wasn’t afraid. The Fade was a scary, dark and confusing place to be, but somehow with his mysterious guide he felt safe. She was a Dreamer afterall, this was, like, her territory, right? Dreams and...everything Fade-like? But she also guided the dead. Hopefully her interest in him was him being  _ alive _ still and not dead. Or future-dead. 

When they popped out of the weird black, shadowy mist, they appeared to be on another island with the same green fog, spiky mountains and spires of stone. The same grim architect was here too, as skeletons and skulls lined the place here and there as well. Lovely. 

There was someone else here, however. Alistair stopped when they came across a fellow he didn’t recognize in a mage’s robe. He was startled to see them, especially the demure and wraith-like Ghilana’din and her lantern-staff, which she held up to see him better in the strange light of the Fade.

“What? Who are you? Where did you come from?” The mage asked.

Alistair was about to respond “the fade” like a dumbass, but thankfully Ghilana’din spoke first. “We are lost dreamers, just like yourself, caught in Sloth’s web.” 

“You...but you're not mages...only the Circle--” The mage stopped and rubbed his forehead.

“I’m attempting to help the Circle with its problems.” Alistair informed. “I--myself and others, got dragged into this mess alongside you and your fellow mages. I’m trying to stop the demon.” 

“With a Dalish…?” The mage questioned, looking pointedly at Ghilana’din.

Alistair pulled her closer, almost protectively. “With a Dalish.” He cleared his throat. “I’m a Grey Warden and we take help wherever it is offered.” 

“Ah, so I see…” The mage then gestured at himself. “My name is Niall. I’m a mage, at the Circle. Good job falling for that trap, too.” 

“Thanks. I tend to fall for them quite easily.” Alistair muttered dryly. Ghilana’din snorted. “I’m Alistair, and this is--”

“Soma.” Ghilana’din said before he could finish. Was that...her real name? It was pretty. 

“So...love what you did with the place! Lovely shade of green, uh,  _ everywhere _ .” 

“What do you want?” Niall asked with narrowed eyes. Great, someone who was humorless. 

“Right. I’m no mage, as you can see.” Alistair gestured towards his old armor and the sword and shield on his back, “I have no idea what I’m doing here or what’s going on, only this is all part of Sloth’s eeeeeevil plan. All I know is where Sloth is, so I can kill him and get everyone out.” 

“There is no getting out!” Niall snapped, his once passive voice harsh. “Believe me, I’ve tried.” He looked around from left to right, rubbing his arm, as if something was watching him. “Sloth is kept on a center island which you cannot reach without defeating the demons on the surrounding islands first. They are just as powerful as he is, and they have ensnared other dreamers like myself and you as well.” Alistair looked down at Ghilana’din -  _ Soma _ \- pointedly. Niall must mean his friends, and wondered if she picked up on that. 

“Well, I’m going to get them out.” Alistair looked back up and met Niall’s gaze. Niall scoffed. 

“Well, good luck with that. You need to break through the dreams to do that.” 

Soma smiled faintly. “There is always a way. You just need to be strong and have courage.” Her ghostly voice echoed. 

“Courage? I don’t have much of that.” Niall said, faintly. “You’re much braver than I.” He looked at Soma with distant eyes. “But you...almost seem like you  _ belong  _ here…” 

Another faint smile crossed her face, though her eyes seemed distant. “Perhaps I do.” 

A chill ran down Alistair’s spine when she said that. He didn’t like it. “Alright then, let’s go.” He took her free hand and began marching off in a direction. He didn’t like the thought that Ghilana’din wasn’t real. And out there, somewhere. But he didn’t know what to believe in the Fade, since it was a land of dreams and altered reality, and he didn’t understand it at  _ all. _

Soma chuckled and re-directed him, holding her lantern out and guiding the way through the fog. 

Alistair could hear Morrigan before he saw her. 

“You cannot even stand to make a decent copy, can you, demon? Do not try to be my mother any longer and fight me as you are!” 

He and Soma burst from the dark mist to see Morrigan standing with what appeared to be Flemeth before Morrigan. Morrigan was rubbing her temples while Flemeth had a genuine hurt expression; which didn’t fit her at all. 

“But I am your mother! Do you not love me at all, child?”

“The real Flemeth would not care whether or not I loved her!” Morrigan shouted, snapping her hand down and glaring at the copy. “Love is naught but fleeting; power is all that is required in this world! You, as a demon, should know this! Now come at me with your true power and vex me no more!” 

“But--”

“Having some trouble?” 

Morrigan turned her attention towards them. She groaned. “Ugh. Of  _ course _ ‘twould be you who comes to my rescue, Alistair. And--” She stopped, looking towards Soma. “And who may you be? I do not sense you are a spirit nor a demon. Are you a dreamer, trapped in the Fade as well? A mage from the Circle?” She looked closer. “No...you bare Vallaslin. A Dalish?” 

“That is correct. I am called Ghilana’din amongst my People.” 

“‘Guide of the Dead.’ Most curious.” So Morrigan knew Elvish? Alistair wondered how and why. “Well, you must be a mage if you are guiding a fool such as Alistair throughout the Fade. He would need as much help as he could get in a place such as this.”

“ _ Hey! _ ” 

Morrigan ignored him, “Now, Ghilana’din, help me get rid of this... _ nuisance. _ ” She gestured towards the fake Flemeth. 

“I can help, too!” 

Morrigan ignored him again. “What say you?”

“I will gladly help.” Soma said with a nod of her head. 

“But, I am--” Flemeth started. 

“Enough!” Morrigan whipped out her staff and smacked the demon across the face with it. “Show me your true form and let us be done with it!” 

“Foolish girl! I will show you true fear!” 

“Oh, now that ‘tis more like it!” Morrigan smirked, watching while the form of Flemeth changed into a massive demonic form that had Alistair wondering how in the Maker’s name they were going to defeat it. 

For one thing, it was  _ huge _ . At least three stories tall! Covered in nothing but black spikes and violet armored skin. Red eyes blinked out from all over it’s head, and it had massive arms that sweeped out with lightning whips, which made him shudder. Why was it lightning again? Couldn’t he catch a break and have some fireballs for a change? He could handle fireballs. 

According to his Templar training, this was a Pride demon too. The strongest kind of demon, to boot. Great. At least he had two mages at his side. Drawing his sword and shield and lowering his visor, it was time for one hell of a fight. 

Soma raised a barrier around him and Morrigan, so that would help deflect some of the lightning at least. Morrigan didn’t know any supportive spells, so he was thankful for the assist. Dashing forward, he leaped over one of the lightning whips that came for him and ducked down under another swing of the opposite arm, dragging his sword along the underside of the demon’s arm as he did it. 

Morrigan cast ice spells on the demon’s feet, driving large spikes through the earth and pinning it down. The Pride demon bellowed and swung it’s lightning whips outwards again, which Alistair jumped and tumbled over, ending up behind it. Swinging around he leaped forward and slashed into the back of the demon while it was pinned. 

Ghilana’din began to lash out with rapid fire spirit bolts, landing them one after another on the creature. Each one began to drive it backwards, causing small explosions of spiritual energy. However, the demon called off it’s whips and released a massive sphere of lightning towards her. 

“Soma, look out!” Alistair called out. 

Ghilana’din heard his cry and saw the blast heading towards her, disappearing briefly and stepping through the Fade to appear on the opposite side of the blast. 

“Alistair!” She called out, “Throw your weapon!” 

He didn’t ask why, he just did it. Swinging it around, he chucked that sword as hard as he could. Suddenly it gained velocity as it headed towards the demon and blasted through it, striking the demon right through the throat. Morrigan cast an ice blast through on the sword and icicles surrounded it, puncturing the monster through the head and chest as well. 

It slumped down. Dead. 

The ice shattered and Alistair’s sword floated back down to him. “Erm...thank you?” He muttered, taking it and sheathing it. 

“You are welcome.” Soma said with an incline of her head. 

“Telekenetic weapons. A rare spell to master.” Morrigan noted, “I like you.” 

“The daughter of  _ the _ Asha'bellanar. I am honored.” Ghilana’din inclined her head to Morrigan. 

She scoffed, “‘Tis not much of an honor to be her daughter, I am afraid.” She rolled her shoulders. “But we must be off. I am eager to kill the demon who has trapped us, and we have allies who are still dreaming as well, do we not?” 

“Yes.” Soma held her lantern out. “Hold onto me and I will lead you to them.” 

Morrigan raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘lead me?’”

“Ah, forgive me. I am a Somniari.” She inclined her head. 

Morrigan looked at her incredulously. “No, no, you cannot be.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “If you were, you would simply tear the mind of the Sloth demon apart, and we would be free from this place by now!” 

Wait, she could do that? 

“Ah, would that I could.” Soma sighed, “But I am here to assist Alistair, and I cannot make things too easy.” 

“‘Cannot make things too--’” Morrigan rubbed her temples. “I am beginning to dislike you, Ghilana’din. You side with Alistair, then you side with a fool! He doesn’t even know why he is here, I am sure.” 

“I’m asleep, aren’t I?” Alistair huffed with some indignation. 

Morrigan gestured towards him, “You see! He has so little understanding of the predicament he is currently in!” 

Soma merely shrugged. “I like him well enough.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes nearly all the way back into her head. “Ugh.  _ Two  _ of them.” Once she was done rolling her eyes over-dramatically, she looked back to Soma, “While I could stand here and argue about how  _ liking _ Alistair is naught but a fool’s errand, we have things to do and ground to cover.” She took a deep, almost exasperated breath, “So while you  _ insist _ upon doing things the hard way,” She placed her hand on the dainty elf’s shoulder, “Let us be off before the Sloth demon notices us, yes?” 

“Indeed.” Ghilana’din responded, taking Alistair’s hand once more. It felt so real. Maybe she was actually real, too! 

The three of them went off into the dream fog again, walking through the swirling black mist. Once again Alistair could see nothing, not even his companions, but he could feel them there. That alone gave him the courage to proceed. 

One by one, they gathered their friends. Leliana, Sten and Wynne. Each one of them questioned the presence of the Dalish mage, who introduced herself as Soma to them instead of Ghilana’din, like she did with Morrigan. Apparently Soma  _ was _ her real name. It seemed as if she was using it so she didn’t need to explain her title to them. 

“A Dreamer? I thought they were only stories.” Wynne breathed. “But if that’s true, why not shape the Fade to what you want? Why bother saving us when you could have gone right to the demon and destroyed it? We would have woken up either way.”

A faint smile crossed Soma’s ashen face. “Perhaps I wanted to do it this way.” So mysterious! He wondered what went on in that head of hers. 

“Strange girl…” Wynne muttered. 

“Regardless, the demons protecting Sloth are defeated now, yes?” Leliana said, “We should be able to reach it.” 

“Right. I hope you all are ready.” Alistair said with a cool nod of his head. Or, well, he  _ hoped _ it was cool looking. He was the party leader, after all. 

“Follow me.” Once again, Soma lifted her lantern and guided them through the mists of the Fade, cutting a path through them and leading them to another open area. There, Sloth awaited. 

“I see I have uninvited guests. why can’t you all just take a break? you all deserve a good rest…”

“Enough! We’ve all broken free from your little trap, and now it’s time to pay!” Alistair shouted at the demon, sword drawn and ready to fight. 

“so I see. well, you’ll get no resistance from me. I am far too tired and exhausted to play with you. you have defeated my greatest generals, and that is enough for me to prove your power.” The demon yawned and stretched. “I shall release you from my curse, dreamers. I have more than enough energy from this.” 

“No, my friend. I think it’s time to die.” Alistair chucked his sword forward. Soma guided it, and it struck the demon directly between the eyes. It’s head snapped backwards, blade driven through the skull. Raising its head back up, it stared ahead blankly for a few moments, before collapsing to the ground, dead. “Hah! Take  _ that! _ ” Alistair cackled, marching over to yank his sword from the monster’s head, but didn’t get the chance.

He woke up on the cold, stone floor of the Circle tower instead. With a massive crink in his neck. The demon before them collapsed to the ground as it had been killed in the Fade. Did it die in real life, too? He didn’t know how it worked. Scrambling to his feet, he decided not to take any chances and hacked the thing’s head off, just in case. 

Slowly, his companions were coming to. All except for Soma, who was nowhere to be seen. “Soma? Ghilana’din?” He found himself calling out, but then he remembered: she wasn’t  _ physically  _ there. With them.  _ Damnit _ . He wanted to see her, just once, and touch her for real… 

“Oh no, Niall!” Wynne gasped, rushing over to a fallen body next to the demon. Alistair turned around and spotted Niall laying there, whom Wynne had rolled over. He stared blankly, unseeing, at the ceiling. He wasn’t breathing. “Niall, come on! Breathe!” 

Alistair furrowed his brows. There was no life in him at all; he was white as a ghost and was starting to go stiff. Morrigan approached Wynne and placed a hand on her shoulder. “‘Tis too late for him.” She said, a tinge of compassion in her usually compassionless voice, “He was in the dream for too long, as were all of the others here. We must move on.”

“No, Niall…” Wynne lowered her head down, shaking it. “Such a sweet, bright boy.” 

“He is holding something. Perhaps it is of use.” Sten noted. 

Alistair knelt down and unfurled a scroll. Wynne leaned over his shoulder and studied it. “The Litany of Adralla? Maker’s breath, blood magic?!” She gasped, looking back down at poor Niall’s corpse. 

“Blood magic? Who said anything about that?” Alistair gasped, looking down at her.

“The Litany is an ancient scroll that helps protect against it when the verses are read!” Wynne explained, “If Niall has it, then he must have gotten it from the Archives to use against Uldred upstairs! They must be employing it to weaken the minds and bodies of those around them!” 

“Maker’s teeth!” Alistair cursed, rolling it back up and handing it over to Wynne, who readily took it, “As if we don’t have enough problems with demons and Abominations as-is! Now we have to worry about  _ blood magic? _ Just what I wanted on a Sunday!” 

“It’s Tuesday.” Sten corrected.

“Of  _ course _ it’s Tuesday.” Alistair groaned and ran a hand down his face. 


	5. Blood and Lyrium

Wynne’s voice echoed across the chamber, through the chaos that was going on. Demons and Abominations were attacking from all fronts, and innocent mages were caught in the cross-fire. She read from the Litany of Adralla to stop the Blood Mages from using their magic on the mages - or Alistair and his companions, for that matter! - to lessen the chaos at least a  _ little _ . Which, of course, was helpful. Blood Magic was  _ scary business. _

“Kill her!” Boomed Uldred’s twisted voice. Or at least, who Alistair  _ assumed _ was this Uldred fellow. He appeared to be leading this little coup d'etat, and had turned into a demonic monstrosity before pleasantries had been exchanged. Because of  _ course _ he had given himself up to a demon. 

“Uh-uh!” Alistair slid on his shield across the room towards Wynne, rolling and bashed a demon’s arm aside with his shield. Popping back up to his feet, he spun around and hacked the demon’s other arm right off, and bashed it in the shoulder while it screamed. 

It soon found itself split in two from Sten’s overly large sword, Alistair giving a nod of his head towards the hornless Qunari. A near-by Abomination found itself frozen to the floor while Leliana lashed out at it with daggers. Still, more of them kept on coming, one right after another; and then there was Uldred to worry about, the big ugly bastard. 

With the first barrage of Abominations out of the way, Morrigan used one of her handy tricks up her sleeves: shapechanging. Turning into a great bear, she barreled (hah, funny!) forward and lunged headlong into Uldred, tackling his monstrous form to the ground and began to maul him. 

With him thoroughly occupied, Sten and Alistair began to hack away at the remaining demons and Abominations, while Leliana covered with her arrows. Wynne rolled up the Litany, having finished reading it, and began to get to work. 

Barriers surrounded everyone on their team, and Alistair found himself fighting with new vigor after Wynne cast her supportive spells on them. She wasn’t an offensive fighter - though she could give a beatdown if she needed to - but a supportive caster. And a healer. Which was good when everyone got cuts and so forth from these fights. 

It didn’t take long for the last of the Abominations to get down and for Uldred to breathe his last. Wynne hurried across the room to the captured mages and went to an older man. 

“Irving! Are you alright?”

“I’ve...been better.” The man, First Enchanter Irving, Alistair presumed, winced. “But what a wonder you are Wynne. You and your companions.” 

Morrigan returned to her normal shape and scoffed. “‘Twas a simple battle. You could have escaped yourselves, had you the will to fight back.” 

Irving glared at her. “Against Blood Magic? Without the Litany of Adralla?” Morrigan merely rolled her eyes. 

Leliana helped release the captured mages and, with Alistair, helped them all to their feet. “I hope the Circle is back under control…?” Irving asked, looking at the mauled, twisted corpse of Uldred in the center of the room. 

“We’ve cleared every floor of demons and abominations, if that’s what you mean.” Alistair noted. “It’ll take a while to clean the coat of blood up, though.” 

“Then let us be off. I am eager to be elsewhere.” Irving winced again, staggering forward. Wynne caught him. 

“You’re in no condition to move, Irving. Here, let me heal you.” She cast a healing spell and moved to set him down, but he waved her off. 

“No, no. I will be fine. Just allow me to lean on one of these young ones.” Irving half-chuckled, “Curse whoever made the Circle into a tower.” 

So with the other mages in tow, they slowly made their way down, Alistair helping Irving. Of course he got saddled with it, being one of the strongest members and one of the tallest (Sten taking both of those titles well in hand...and not offering to help, either). It took them probably close to an hour to make it down, no one really talking either; Irving merely looking grimly at the horror that lay before them as they went. It would take a lot of doing to clean everything up, and even longer to restore it. But the Circle in Ferelden wouldn’t be the same. Not ever again. 

A Templar named Cullen was with them too. They had run into him before the chamber with Uldred, claiming the Circle couldn’t be saved due to the Blood Magic being used. He had been denied food and water for some time, and had been manipulated and tortured by Uldred’s Blood Magic as well. Poor sob. He begrudgingly went with them, sulking behind them, muttering to himself the entire time. Alistair couldn’t help but feel sorry for the lad, who had to be about the same age as him. 

That could easily be him, if he wasn’t careful. Sanity broken and bitter. But he wouldn’t let these things get to him. He had a duty to fulfill. 

Finally, they reached the chambers with the Knight-Commander and the others. Only about twenty or thirty mages survived, out of what? A hundred, two hundred? It broke Alistair’s heart to see so much death and suffering…

“Irving! You’re alive?” The Knight-Commander, Greigor, gasped. 

“Don’t act so surprised. There’s still some fight left in these old bones yet.” Irving half-chuckled. “These fine people have stopped Uldred and the insurrection. However, these are all who remain left alive, and--”

“Knight-Commander, the Circle is still not safe!” Cullen interrupted.

“Excuse me, what was that, Cullen?” 

“The mages with Uldred were using Blood Magic! We cannot know how many of them were corrupted by the foul nature of Blood Magic, or how many of them were turned!” Cullen shouted forcefully, pointing an accusing finger at the group of mages. Alistair looked back at them and furrowed his brows; there was no way any of them could be. They were all terrified. 

Greigor looked aghast. “Irving, is this true?”

Irving sighed. “Yes, yes it is.” He looked up and met Greigor’s gaze, “However, all of those who were using it turned into Abominations. They were killed by our friends here. You have nothing to fear.”

“Then I will take your word for it, Irving.” Thank the Maker Greigor had a good head on his shoulders. The mages who were left were all just as scared of Blood Magic as the Templars were. 

“But--” Cullen went to protest. 

“That is enough, Cullen.” The Knight-Commander raised his hand to silence the exhausted young man, “I appreciate your concern, but it’s clear you’ve been through a lot, lad.” He paused, looking back at the mages, then back to Irving. “We  _ all _ have.” 

“Can I get an offer of support, then?” 

“My duty is now to protect what mages we have left.” Greigor informed, “They are now as precious as gold, after what has happened. And I have only a few Templars remaining as well.”

Irving looked to Alistair, “You are a Grey Warden, yes?” Alistair nodded his head, “I will promise you what little aid I can. We have few mages, but even a handful can be devastating. We will back you in the Blight.” 

“Thank you.” Alistair nodded his head. “There is another matter, more pressing, that I would like to ask you about.” 

“Ask away.” Alistair explained the situation in Redcliffe, Irving listening intently. “I see. That is indeed a tricky situation. But I will select some mages to come with you when you return to Redcliffe so you may assist the child.” 

Alistair gave an incline of his head. “Alright, we’ll rest outside the tower tonight and head out tomorrow.” 

“Just a moment.” Wynne said before he and the others could head out for some much needed r&r, turning to Irving. “Irving, I would like permission to go with them as well. Not just for helping with the possession, but to help with the Blight as well.” 

“Really, now?” Irving said with a chuckle. “Well, you were never one to stay behind while there was adventure to be had. You have my permission to go.” 

“Most excellent.” She turned towards Alistair, “That is, if you’ll have me.” 

“Of course! We could use a healer.” 

“Because Alistair is stupid and might walk into his sword on accident.” Morrigan commented dryly.

“Hey, I know which end is pointy!” Alistair whined. 

“Contrary to popular belief.” Sten added.

“Why do you guys gang up on me?” 

“Because it is amusing.” Said Sten. 

Alistair pressed a hand to his chest. “You? Find things amusing? Perish the thought! I assumed you always had that scowl fused to your face!” 

“Hnn.” 

“Children, please.” Wynne clapped her hands to get their attention. Great, did they just hire a nursemaid? “We should be off, and can argue later.” Alistair mock-pouted at her. 

“Alright, fine. But only if I get the last laugh in!”

Morrigan scoffed. “You  _ never _ do.”

\------

Three days and a night later, they arrived in Redcliffe. 

Things were much the same. Teagan had been released from...whatever it was that made him act like a total bouffon, Isolde was still frazzled beyond belief, Eamon lay dying and Connor was still possessed. The village, at least, was able to rebuild with the corpses no longer raiding at night, and Teagan was able to get some cleaning up done inside of the castle. The demon inside of Connor seemed to be afraid of what was coming, and had run off and hid somewhere inside of the castle too. But they didn’t need his physical body for the ritual at least. 

“Thank the Maker you return! I do not know how much longer he will remain placid.” Isolde stated, wringing her hands. 

“We come with mages and lyrium.” Leliana said sweetly, rubbing Isolde’s shoulder. “They can send one of their own into the Fade to get rid of the demon possessing your son.” Alistair had to thank her for that. Leliana had such a sweet continence, and if he said anything Isolde would have just thrown it back in his face. Somehow. Maker, how she hated him, and he still wasn’t even sure exactly  _ why _ . Probably because he was the bastard prince, even though he never got any special treatment for it by Eamon. 

“Thank you, oh, Maker bless you all!” Isolde held her hands out to Leliana and tears ran down her face. “I want nothing more than Connor to be safe!” 

“We are going to do all we can to ensure his safety, Lady Isolde.” Leliana smiled gently at her, taking her hands and squeezing them gently. 

The mages set up around the Great Hall. Four pedestals full of lyrium, with a mage at each. They decided Wynne would go into the Fade to destroy the demon, though Morrigan was stronger, she did not volunteer. Wynne was more than happy to deal with it herself, and Alistair had seen she was more than capable. He trusted she would be fine, and so would Connor. This  _ would _ work. It had to. 

The mages had drawn a magical circle out of lyrium between the four pedestals, and Wynne went into the center of it. She knelt down and held her hands in her lap, her staff resting before her. She closed her eyes as if meditating, and the mages began to cast the spell. The lyrium activated and each mage went into a trance-like state; the lyrium hummed and sang, bursting to life and painting the hall a brilliant shade of blue with it’s ethereal light. Light traced its way around the circle and soon, Wynne was engulfed in it.

The light faded, and Wynne was in a trance. “Now all we do is wait.” Morrigan said, her arms crossed. Alistair let out a breath he had been holding. Leliana held onto Isolde’s hands, who was shaking terribly. Teagan looked grimly on with Alistair. 

Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days. Alistair hated waiting. But there wasn’t anything he could do; it was out of his hands. But he didn’t want to nod off, or say anything, or do anything. This was too important to just wander off or strike up a conversation or play cards. 

Finally, Wynne gasped, her eyes flying open and her back arching. One by one, the other mages gasped as well, their bodies going slack after standing so still for so long. Alistair shot to his feet, finding his butt had gone numb from sitting so long. 

“Is it over? Is it finished?”

Wynne stumbled over onto her back. Alistair flew over and helped her to her feet, she was breathing heavily and sweating profusely. “It...it is done.” She whispered, wiping her brow. “The demon is dead.” 

“THe demon is...gone?” Isolde gasped, head tilted up. 

“It is gone.” Wynne assured. 

“M...mother…?” 

Connor was standing in the doorway, speaking in a normal voice. Isolde shot to her feet, eyes wide. “Connor…?” 

“Mother, I...I’m sorry, I--” 

“Oh, Connor!” Isolde rushed to him and threw her arms around him, collapsing to her knees and began to sob. 

\-----

“So...what now?” Alistair asked. 

They were gathered in Eamon’s bedchamber. He lay in bed, wheezing, but alive. Wynne sat with him, casting a spell over him. 

After a few moments, she stopped and sighed. “There isn’t anything magic or medicine can do for him.” She looked over at Alistair and Isolde, “The poison used on him was meant to kill him. However, his spirit is in limbo right now - the demon that possessed Connor kept its promise. He  _ is _ alive...but is only a husk.” She shook her head. 

“Then you’re saying there’s  _ nothing _ we can do for him?” Alistair said, defeated. He thrust his fist down towards the ground when he said this, angrily.

“I’m sorry.” Wynne looked down, “I am a skilled herbalist and healer, but this man is beyond my help. And as a surgeon has already seen him--”

“The Urn! The Urn of Sacred Ashes could heal him!” Isolde insisted. 

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. “But isn’t that just a myth, a legend?” 

“No, it’s not!” Isolde threw back at him, because  _ of course  _ she would. “It is where our Holy Andraste’s ashes are kept! They are sacred, and they could heal him of his affliction!”

Alistair took a breath. Then another. “Okay, okay...so say it  _ is _ real...where in Thedas are we going to  _ find _ it?” 

“There is a scholar in Denerim, Brother Genitivi,” Isolde informed, “I sent all of the knights out to find him and find any clues they could find about the Urn. Perhaps you could look there.” 

Alistair hesitated. “Not...to put too fine a point on it, Lady Isolde...but I’m a wanted man. Loghain put a bounty on my head because I’m a ‘rebel prince’ and pinned the blame of Cailan’s death on me, remember? I can’t exactly go to Denerim right now, and--”

“Then go look somewhere else!” Isolde insisted. “There are other leads; start somewhere else!” She crossed her arms, “I won’t recall the knights until Eamon is well.” 

“I--” Alistair was about to argue, but thought better of it. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Alright, fine. We’ll do what we can.” 

She smiled and nodded her head. “Good.” 

“In the meantime, the Circle will keep a mage here to monitor the Arl,” Wynne suggested, “There may not be much we can do to heal him, but he should be kept under watch. With the demon gone, we do not want him to decline.” 

“Good idea, Wynne.” Alistair nodded his head. “Well, we have our goal...Denerim or bust. I’ll just have to wear some kind of disguise.” 

“I find a hat and growing a beard are excellent ideas.” Wynne suggested with a sly grin. “It will take us a few weeks to get to Denerim on foot, regardless.” 

“But, my perfect facial hair!” Alistair whined. 

“No buts, mister - you are growing a beard.” 


	6. Into the Woods

Alistair scratched his face. He hated having a beard. They were itchy and he kept getting his food stuck in it. But alas, Denerim was their goal, and he needed to look...not like himself. The bushier the better, Wynne had said, and they were stopping in the Brecilian Forest to find some Dalish for more Grey Warden treaties. It was (sorta?) on the way. 

After days of wandering the confusing maze of trees and rivers, they finally came across a Dalish sentry. She took them to the keeper, Zathrian, who explained to them the problems they were having with Werewolves. Werewolves! Alistair thought they only existed in storybooks, but apparently they were real. And of course they existed in someplace as big and as spooky as the Brecilian Forest. But of course, Zathrian insisted that he wouldn’t help or let the other Dalish clans know until he received help in return.

Because of course. 

“I’m going to go look for supplies; we’ll meet at the camp’s exit in fifteen, alright?” Alistair informed the group, who all looked eager to explore different things. They broke apart, Leliana wandering towards the campfire, Wynne going towards the wounded near the Keeper’s err...tent, boat, carriage, thingie (what were those things called?). Sten wandered off somewhere, while Morrigan seemed happy to chat up the First, who was like the Keeper’s apprentice. Alistair sighed and looked around. 

He looked to the wounded first, who were all laid about on cots and furs. There were too many to keep indoors apparently. Wynne was speaking to the healer about the wounds, to see if she could help any. But the rest of the Dalish were avoiding them, it seemed; probably too afraid to catch the disease. Even though it only spread by biting. At least, according to Zathrian. 

There was another Dalish in there, though. With grey hair...and looked sort of like…

“Hmm?” 

Alistair moved past the camper that belonged to Zathrian and maneuvered around Wynne. Hunched over one of the wounded was a demure elf with light grey hair in a low bun. A bearskin was flung over their shoulders with a black cape that hung down from it, a black leather-bound iron staff with an iridescent blue crystal rested on their back. A doll-like brown hand held a vial. 

“Here, drink this lethallan. It will ease your pain.” That voice!

“Ghilana--” He started. But no, that didn’t seem right. “Soma?” 

“Hm?” 

The elf turned around at Alistair’s call. The face was the same; narrow at the chin, wide at the jaw, with large dark eyes. The same white tattoos lined her face doll-like face. The skin wasn’t ashen, but a more healthy-looking brown. Only the eyes didn’t look at him, or even move with her head. They store  _ through _ him. 

“Alistair, is that you?” She asked, rising upwards from her hunched position. Only, her right side didn’t shift that much; there was a crook in her back, and her right shoulder was higher than her left. 

Taking her staff, she tapped it ahead of her until she found his foot. Alistair’s mouth felt dry. He wasn’t sure how to react to meeting her in person, especially since she didn’t...look like how she did in the Fade. But it had to be her, wasn’t it? It sounded like her, she responded to Soma, the same tattoos on her face, so different from those in the clan he had seen so far…

Despite her different appearances, she was still precious to him. 

“I told you we would meet soon.” She planted her staff on the ground and smiled faintly, holding onto it with both hands. 

“I--” Alistair was at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say to her; meeting her in person was so strange. It wasn’t the different appearance between her Fade-self and her real-self that bothered him so much, as it was just  _ meeting the real her _ . Here Soma was, standing before him, her dark eyes staring through him, a faint smile on her pretty, doll-like face. And he didn’t know what to say. She chuckled. 

“Cat got your tongue, I see.” 

“I--No. I mean, I. Uh. I just--” He stumbled over his words. What was one to say in such an instance? It was like meeting a penpal for the first time. Only he had seen her in his dreams. Alistair swallowed hard. “H-how did you...know it was me?”

Soma tilted her head, “You have the same aura, I suppose.” She said in her calm, almost ethereal voice, “And your voice is the same. Oh, and you’re awkward.” A smile, “But I don’t mind you being awkward. It’s...endearing.” 

Alistair flushed. “I, uh, supposed that’s a good thing. Hah.” 

“I sense you are distressed. I hope my different appearance from the Beyond and in real life has not disturbed you.” She pointed to her crooked shoulder. 

“Wha--no, of course not!” Alistair protested. It wasn’t a lie, either. Sure, it was surprising to see the differences, but she was still his Soma. Wait, when did he get possessive of her? “I’m just amazed it’s really you. In the flesh.” 

“Hah.” A chuckle, “You are a curious one, Alistair. I like that.” Soma gave a polite bow. “Allow me to formally introduce myself, now that we are meeting in person. I am Soma Mahariel.” 

“I should do the same, then. Alistair Theirin.” Alistair bowed too, but realized he must look ridiculous, bowing to a blind woman. It also felt weird using his surname, since he so rarely gave it out. But it was high time he started to use it. He  _ was  _ sort of building a rebellion, after all. 

“Might I see you?” Soma asked with a tilt of her head. 

“Err...what?” Alistair arched a brow. How could a blind person see him? “I’m sorry, but aren’t you…?”

“No, with my hands.” She held them out before her. “I do not know what you look like. If I touch your face with my hands, I can garner a picture of what your appearances are.” 

“Oh!” Alistair awkwardly laughed, “Right. Uh, well, I don’t see why not!” He leaned down towards her, feeling rather embarrassed. Having a woman touch his face was, after all, a  _ new experience _ . Especially one that he liked so much.  _ Wait, where did that thought come from? _ He blushed at the notion and cleared his throat, and hopefully his thoughts. 

Soma reached for him and touched his beard first and blinked. “I was not expecting a beard, first of all.” 

“Neither was I.” He said without thinking. “Err, I mean. I’m, uh, growing it out. I need a disguise, for uh-- you know what, nevermind.” 

Soma chuckled. “I’ll find out your secrets one way or another, lethallan.” She teased. He felt himself blush furiously at the notion, his heart racing. What did lethallan mean, anyway? 

“Alistair? Weren’t we going to meet by the camp exit?” Wynne nudged him in the side. “It’s almost been 15 minutes, but you’ve been chatting up this young lady the entire time.” 

“Wha--really?” Alistair gasped, having lost track of time, “Shoot, I need to go get supplies! I need go get going now, I’m--”

“I’ll show you where they are.” Soma replied simply. She began to tap ahead of herself and walk forward. 

“But, you’re--”

“I know where they are.” 

Alistair blinked and hurried after her, as she had already gotten ahead of him. Her pace was a hair slower than his normal walking speed, which was saying something considering how much shorter her legs were than his. And she was blind. She led him over towards one of those strange campers the Dalish used - seriously, what  _ were _ they called - with a smith of sorts set up. 

“Master Varathorn, this is the Grey Warden who came to help us.”

“Ghilana’din, you startled me!” The Dalish at the smithy nearly jumped out of his skin. “You need to stop sneaking up on people!” 

“My apologies. I move as swift and quietly as a wolf sometimes.” 

“Fen’Harel is ever at your heels, it seems.” Varathorn breathed.

“It certainly feels that way, sometimes…” Soma said, more to herself than to anyone else. Alistair wondered what she meant. 

“Anyway, Warden, is there anything I can help you with? I am no merchant, but I might have some weapons, armor or items that may help you or your colleagues.” Varathorn gestured towards his wares. “Please, let me know if you have any questions. I do not take your currency, as we have no need of it, but we may trade.”

Alistair perused the wares and selected some arrows for Leliana (she always needed more) and several bushels of Elfroot for Wynne to make into poltices and potions. He traded for some old equipment they didn’t need anymore, which Varathorn stated they would resmelt into items that the clan would need. 

“Thank you, Warden. Good luck out there, I hope you can aid our clan.” Varathorn gave an incline of his head. 

“I hope so.” Alistair nodded and began to head towards the exit, and heard Soma following after him. “Soma, are you...following me?” He asked over his shoulder. 

“Of course.” She replied, “I am going to help you.” 

“Wha-- but you’re…blind.” He wasn’t sure how else to put it more delicately. They would be heading into the Brecilian Forest, notorious for being maze-like, and he didn’t want her to get lost or held up - or worse - hurt because of her disability. Soma didn’t seem to take offense to his comment, or at least didn’t show it on her face.

“I am not made of glass, Alistair.” She snapped, though her voice remained as calm as it ever was, “I may be blind, but I am not an inferm. You have seen how powerful I am in the Fade, I am just as strong in the real world. I can help.” 

“I--” Alistair flinched at her words. So she  _ had _ taken offense. Now he felt like a right, royal idiot. He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, but...are you sure you can navigate the forest? I don’t want you--”

“I wander these woods, going from clan to clan, on my own all the time.” Soma informed him, “I left my clan long ago, and have been on my own since. I will be fine.” 

Alistair took in a breath, and let it out. “Alright. If you insist.” He cocked a grin. “I like someone who can take care of themselves.” When he realized how flirty that sounded, he flushed and waved his hands in front of himself. “Err, I mean, I! N-not that I like,  _ like _ you! In that way.” _ Or maybe I do _ , he thought, while laughing awkwardly. Soma raised a brow. 

“If you say so.” 

“Alistair, are you harassing this poor, young woman?” Leliana teased, approaching the pair. 

“What? No!” Alistair whipped around, flushed at her. Leliana giggled and leaned down to Soma. 

“Look at how cute he is, with how he blushes!” 

“He is blushing?” Soma commented with a small smirk. “How sweet.” 

“Oh, you’re blind--oh dear Maker, forgive me! I didn’t notice--” 

“It is quite alright. No offense taken.” Soma patted Leliana on the shoulder. Leliana then peered to get a closer look at her face. 

“Hey, aren’t you?”

“Leliana, this is Soma. From the Fade!” Alistair introduced, gesturing towards her. 

“Ah, I thought you looked familiar!” Leliana clapped her hands together, “I am pleased to meet you in person! I did not know this was your clan!” 

“It is not.” Soma corrected, “I travel from clan to clan, easing the souls of the departed and those who are suffering. I am most needed here, so here is where I shall stay. At least, for the time being.” 

“Ah, what a noble cause.” Leliana smiled. 

“Ah, kidnapping clan members now, are we?” Morrigan was next to appear. 

“Hey, I’m not kidnapping her, she’s volunteering to come help us!” Alistair retorted. Morrigan rolled her eyes. 

“Certainly.” She then noticed Soma’s face. “Ah, our friend from the Fade...and she is sightless in the real world.  _ Wonderful. _ ” 

“I know these woods like the back of my hand.” Soma responded gently. 

“So now we are taking in the inferm? What is next, children?” Morrigan threw her arms up in the air. Soma looked sternly in her general direction. 

“You have seen me at work in the Beyond, I am more than capable in the real world as well.” She assured. “Just because I cannot see does not mean I will hinder your group.” Morrigan sneered at her. 

“We shall see.” She shot a glare at Alistair. “You really are willing to take in anyone, aren’t you?” 

“Oh do shut up, will you?” Alistair groaned, “She assured me she’ll be fine.” 

By now, Wynne and Sten had returned as well. “Children, please, no more arguing.” Wynne clapped her hands again. Morrigan groaned and stalked off to the side, crossing her arms. Sten said nothing, merely quirked a brow down at the presence of Soma. “Now then, we should be off, shouldn’t we?” She looked over at Soma and smiled. “I see that young lady you were speaking to will be joining us--oh!” She stopped when she noticed the face. “From the Fade! Soma, was it?” 

“Indeed. You are Wynne?” 

“Very astute.” Wynne smiled and patted her on the good shoulder. “I see you are blind; will you be able to traverse with us without issue?” 

“I will be fine.” 

“Excellent. If you need any assistance, don’t be afraid to ask.” Wynne said gently. 

“Finally!  _ Someone _ has some damn sense around here!” Alistair commented. 

“Funny. Coming from you.” Sten noted. 

Alistair pouted, “What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” 

Morrigan gave an exasperated groan, “He means you have no sense to speak of, Alistair.”

Blink, blink. “.. _.Hey! _ ” 

\------

The forest was quiet.  _ Too  _ quiet. 

Insofar they had only run across the usual wildlife-that-wants-to-kill-them, like bears and wolves. Which always made Alistair upset, because he didn’t really like killing wildlife. He’d rather kill Abominations again, honestly. But there weren’t any werewolves or anything weird as they wandered the woods outside of camp. What qualified as “weird” Alistair left up in the air, since he wasn’t sure  _ what  _ to expect. They had to find this Witherfang and bring it’s heart to Zathrian to cure the sick Dalish in camp. 

Which meant finding werewolves. 

But instead…

“There are Darkspawn nearby.” Alistair warned as they wandered, “Not part of the horde, more like some scouting parties.” But enough to be cautious. Had they really come this far north already? Where  _ was _ the horde at this point, anyway? He had heard from one of the tiny towns they had visited - and from Bohdan, who had begun to travel with them - that Lothering was destroyed by the horde. But something felt off…

Alistair pursed his lips. “I think they have an ogre.” Why, he didn’t know. It was too big and large of an aura to be an Alpha or an Emissary…

“ _ Wonderful. _ ” Morrigan sighed. “How do you propose we avoid them, Grey Warden?” 

“I don’t think we can, not with the way the forest is laid out.” Alistair noted, scanning the woods. He also wanted to kill them so they didn’t attack then Dalish camp, that was one problem they  _ didn’t  _ need right now. “We should meet them at the top of that hill over there, give us the high ground.” He pointed towards it. 

The group proceeded towards the top of the hill. Leliana drew her bow. “They should be approaching from that ridge,” Alistair noted, Leliana nodding and aiming while the others waited. Morrigan, Wynne and Soma prepared their staves. 

Moments later, some Hurlock appeared from the ridge. Leliana fired and nailed one right between the eyes, knocking it over, dead. This alerted the other Darkspawn, who began to charge at them. She continued to fire her arrows at them, while Wynne and Morrigan started to release blasts of magic down at them. Soma did not, however; even though she had shown she had done so in the Fade, she did not this time. 

Instead, she swung her staff around towards the ground, then raised her hands upwards dramatically. The ground began to rumble and crack and from it burst a skeleton hand. Then another, and another; soon rising from the earth came a small army of skeletons. The Darkspawn recoiled as the dead rose from the ground and charged at them. But instead of attacking like one would think, they exploded with bursts of arcane power. Shards of bone and bursts of magic destroyed the remaining Spawn from Leliana, Morrigan and Wynne’s attacks, leaving everyone gaping at what had just happened. 

“What...in the Void just…?” Alistair blinked. 

The ground shook as the ogre approached. More skeletons rose from the ground. Morrigan blasted the ogre in the knees with spikes of ice; it hindered its movement. Suddenly, the dead Hurlock’s rose back up and began to stalk towards the ogre, sparking with the same arcane energy the skeletons were. Once the walking corpses were upon the ogre, they, too, exploded with magical energy. It was enough to shred the ogre’s legs to pieces and it collapsed onto the ground. 

It...well, it was a sound strategy. The ogre lay writhing on the ground, gripping it’s shattered legs and crying out in pain. Sten charged forward and, un-mottled by the rather unique strategy and magic being used, drove his blade between the ogre’s horns and into its skull. He continued to stab into the ogre’s brain over and over again until he was convinced the monster was dead, panting heavily. 

Alistair slowly turned towards Soma. So did Wynne and Morrigan. “So...ma…?” 

“‘Tis what your name means. You are a Necromancer, are you not?” Morrigan questioned, pointing a finger at her. 

“That I am.” Soma admitted. Alistair’s jaw slowly fell open. He thought only mages in Navarra used Necromancy! Or demons. Where did she learn how to use it? And why? So creepy! It would explain why she was an outcast, going from clan to clan like she was… “It is part of why I have that name amongst my People.” She turned towards Morrigan and tilted her head to the side, “I also help ease the suffering of the dying. But yes, I mostly work with the dead and study them, or use them in magical experiments. Is there any objection to me doing so?”

“No, I found your use most practical.” Morrigan nodded her head, “Quite ingenious, throwing them at the enemy as walking bombs.” 

“Well,  _ I  _ do!” Leliana protested, “Using the dead like that is wrong! They should be allowed to rest in peace, not be made to walk again!” 

“Their spirit has left their body. They are no longer using it, so there should be no issue.” Soma said with a small shrug, “Besides, most of Ferelden is built upon the bones of the dead. You cannot swing a dead cat around without hitting a corpse you are currently standing on.” 

“I do not think it’s right!” Leliana continued, “I--”

“Ladies, I don’t think this is a discussion we should be having in the middle of a haunted forest?” Alistair offered, “We have a job to do, right?” 

Leliana huffed and crossed her arms. “I still don’t think it’s right.” Soma merely shrugged her shoulders. 

Alistair, honestly, wasn’t sure where he stood on the matter. It was weird and creepy - kind of like Soma herself - but it didn’t make him think  _ less _ of her. But it was disturbing on one hand, but on the other it was practical. Ugh, was he actually  _ agreeing _ with Morrigan? A chill ran down his spine at the very thought! No, it was wrong to use the dead like that…

Pulling Soma aside while they continued on their way, Alistair whispered to her. “What about that magic you used in the Fade? Can’t you use that?”

“I could...but I’d risk hitting someone on our side,” Soma stated in a low voice, “I can’t see outside of the Fade. I can only sense aura’s. Thusly, I cannot aim. It is why I use corpses to attack my enemies, for they have minds of their own and I do not need to guide them once they rise.” 

“Ah...I didn’t think of that.” Alistair felt embarrassed now. Here they were, with Soma, walking along fine that he had forgotten that she was blind. “Stupid of me. I forgot.” 

A faint, ghostly smile. “You’re not stupid, Alistair. No matter what Morrigan says.” She fumbled for him and grasped his shoulder, giving it a pat. 

The group continued onwards until they reached a split in the road at a waterfall. Alistair felt like they were being watched and held a hand out to stop the group, and felt Soma run into his arm. She looked over to him in confusion, but he shushed her. 

Seconds later, a group of werewolves approached them. However, they didn’t seem hostile. One of them rose up on his haunches and glared down at Alistair and the rest of the group, but didn’t attack. 

“You speak to Swiftrunner.” He growled. Was it a he? It sounded like a he. “I come to parlay with the humans.” 

“Speak, then.” Alistair crossed his arms and looked up at the monstrous creature. So Zathrian was telling the truth - werewolves  _ were  _ real. How about that. Then again, nothing was surprising to him anymore. Was that cynicism again? Damnit. He hated being cynical. 

“You enter these woods without knowing the truth.” The werewolf known as Swiftrunner informed, still growling. Was that just how they sounded? 

“Truth? What truth?” Alistair asked with a raised brow, “I was sent here by the Keeper, Zathrian, to help cure his people. Your people attacked them and now they are turning into Werewolves. Only Witherfang’s heart can cure them. What about that is a lie?” 

Swiftrunner snorted. “We only attack in retaliation!” He pointed in the direction of the camp. “You know nothing! You seek out Witherfang? You will never find her! You do not know the truth about what is going on! Zathrian lies, boldfaced, to you!” 

“Then tell me the truth so I know what’s going on!” Alistair retorted, “If I can resolve this peacefully, I would.”

“I do not believe you!” Swiftrunner growled, “The Lady of the Forest waits for you, if you dare to find her. But only if the woods allow you to come!” Howling, he and the other werewolves charged off into the woods again, leaving Alistair flabbergasted. 

“I, we--!” Alistair thrust his fist downwards. “What in the Void’s name was that?!” 

“I believe that parlay was them just yelling at you.” Leliana noted. 

“Thank you, I noticed!” Alistair ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Now what?”

“It sounds like we need to meet this, ‘Lady of the Forest’ to get some answers.” Morrigan noted, “Though I do not know what they mean by ‘if the woods allow you’.”

Soma sighed, “The Veil is thin in this part of the forest,” She explained, “Spirits have come to possess the trees, the plants, even the very air.” She gestured all around her, “Things do not behave as if they normally would here. The deeper we proceed into the woods, the thinner the Veil becomes.” 

“How marvelous! I suspect we shall run into Shades and the ilk as well, yes?” Morrigan exclaimed with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

“More like living trees.” Soma informed. 

“ _ Wonderful. _ ” 

“We best be prepared, then.” Wynne picked up her staff and began to proceed, “Let’s start by following after those werewolves. Their tracks could lead us to their lair, right? Seems like a good place as any to start.” 

“Right. Walking into a lair full of werewolves seems like a  _ brilliant _ idea.” Alistair groaned. 


End file.
